Hermosa
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Alberto/Ricardo. Ricardo is sure that Alberto will be the next World Champion. That's not the problem. The problem is, after Alberto becomes champion, what happens to Ricardo? Slash. Please Review!
1. Introduction

**Title:** Hermosa 

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Alberto Del Rio/Ricardo Rodriguez

**Summary:** Ricardo is sure that Alberto will be the next World Champion. That's not the problem. The problem is, after Alberto _becomes_ champion, what happens to Ricardo?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

**Part:** 1/? – Introduction

**OOOO**

It was the worst news that he could have received.

Ricardo peeled up the hem of his shirt and looked at his stomach. It couldn't be true. The doctors must've lied to him. But he knew that that was a lie. He had been ill for several days, but had hidden it from Alberto because he didn't want to worry the older man. The aristocrat had other business to worry about, such as the World Title. Ricardo was certain that Alberto would not be content until he had that belt around his waist. He would continue to demolish the miniscule competition that was tossed at him until he achieved his destiny.

Alberto didn't have time for children, and he certainly didn't have time for babies. It was an unfortunate truth that he wouldn't want this baby either. Alberto and Ricardo were of two different social classes, after all. Ricardo was no more than the help. Constantly, Alberto would come to him and use his body for his own sexual needs. He knew that Ricardo wouldn't complain. His salary made sure that he would keep his mouth shut. And there was no way that Alberto would waste his money on a diseased hooker.

Unfortunately, Ricardo knew that Alberto could never love him. Alberto had a fiancé, a beautiful woman whom he claimed to love very much. Ricardo was just a man on the side. He didn't matter at all. Slowly, Ricardo traced a hand over his slightly distended stomach. In the few hours that he had known about the baby, he had become attached and he didn't know if he could part with the unborn infant. Even if Alberto didn't want it, _he_ wanted the baby. It would be his only connection to the man who didn't want him…

Alberto entered his locker room, a broad smile on his face after he won the Number One Contender match – thanks to Ricardo, of course. "Are you ready to head back to the hotel, mi amigo?"

Ricardo turned to him, a false smile on his face. "Of course, El Patron."

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Sorry it's so short, but this is only the introduction. More to come. Please Review!


	2. The Hotel

**Title:** Hermosa 

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Alberto Del Rio/Ricardo Rodriguez

**Summary:** Ricardo is sure that Alberto will be the next World Champion. That's not the problem. The problem is, after Alberto _becomes_ champion, what happens to Ricardo?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

**Part:** 2/? – The Hotel

**OOOO**

A half hour later, Alberto and Ricardo walked into their shared hotel room. Ricardo was well aware of their routine. He took out a bottle of vanilla bubble bath and walked into the bathroom without a word. Carefully, he went down on his knees and started to fill the tub with warm, almost hot, water. He filled the cap twice and emptied it into the tub. Quickly, deliciously scented bubbles started to form on the surface of the water.

Alberto entered a moment later, totally naked other than a white, fluffy towel around his waist. And then, the towel was stuffed into Ricardo's hands and Alberto slid into the water with a low moan. Ricardo rose slowly and stood off to the side. He didn't want to seem as if he was staring at Alberto's naked body, even if it _was_ an extremely beautiful specimen and he loved to worship it when he was allowed. Ricardo looked down at the multicolored tile floor.

The announcer was nauseous. He tried to hold his breath and count back from ten, but that only seemed to make him dizzier. He leaned back on the marble counter and the small strip of skin that was revealed met the ice-cold material. Ricardo let out a soft huff as he felt a shiver chase over his fevered skin. Alberto continued to bathe himself, totally oblivious to his announcer's distress. Ricardo let out a soft moan of distress when he felt the bile rise in his throat.

"Ricardo." Alberto called out. Ricardo took a breath and tried to calm his stomach. It worked to a certain extent and he made his way over to the tub. "What's the matter? You've been silent for almost thirty minutes."

Ricardo looked shocked. He didn't think that Alberto had been in the tub for that much time. "Lo siento, El Patron. I didn't realize that you wanted me to talk." Ricardo said.

"You've been distant lately. Tell me what the matter is." Alberto ordered. Ricardo couldn't deny a direct order.

"There isn't a problem, El Patron. You shouldn't be worried about me. You should be concerned with Sheamus."

"Ricardo… Ricardo… Ricardo… do you think that I cannot beat Sheamus?" Alberto asked.

Ricardo's chocolate eyes widened and he hurriedly shook his head. "No. Not at all. I'm _sure_ that you can beat him."

Alberto looked him over once. He didn't like the nervous look on Ricardo's face. "If that's true, then what else could it be that is bothering you? You are of no use to me in a compromised state."

Ricardo didn't answer. For some reason, those words struck a chord with him. Did Alberto really mean that Ricardo was of no use to him if he was 'compromised'? It made Ricardo's stomach churn uncomfortably. Alberto didn't seem to mind that he didn't answer. He washed himself off and climbed out of the tub. Ricardo moved robotically, drying off the older man and then wrapping the towel around the other Mexican's waist.

Alberto vanished into the room. Ricardo drained the bathtub and shut the door to the bathroom, before he fell down to his knees and violently emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. When all that was left were dry heaves, he washed his mouth out with water and spit into the toilet once more. He flushed it down and wiped his mouth off with a washcloth. And then, he came back out in time to watch Alberto climb into bed.

"Ricardo, order a bottle of the hotel's best wine and bring it to me." Alberto ordered. He leaned back onto the pillow and drew the blankets up to his waist. "What are you waiting for?"

Ricardo shook his head and called room service to order the wine. The woman told him that it would arrive in a few minutes. "The wine will be here in a few minutes, El Patron."

"Ricardo," Alberto ordered. Immediately, his announcer was at his bedside. "Turn up the television for me. I want to be able to hear my stories."

Ricardo looked at the remote in Alberto's hand. Surely, it had a volume button on it? "Of course, El Patron."

Ricardo did as he had been told. He didn't really have much of a voice in the matter, after all. He turned the volume up until he heard a soft mumble of approval from the bed, and then he wandered over to Alberto's bedside once more. If it could be said that the Mexican aristocrat had one guilty pleasure, it would be his stories. He could stay up for hours upon hours just to watch the love, betrayal, and angst.

When the wine came, Ricardo thanked the woman and took the bottle from her hand. He took it to Alberto and set it beside him. "What are you waiting for, Ricardo? _Serve_ the wine."

"Lo siento, El Patron." Ricardo was at his bedside once more as he yanked the cork out with the small instrument and served some into Alberto's wine glass. "There you are."

Alberto looked him over uncertainly, before he barked. "Idiota."

Ricardo flinched and tried not to look totally crestfallen at the insult. "Will that be all?"

"A bit anxious to leave, are we?" Alberto asked, one eyebrow raised. But then he dismissed him with a nonchalant wave of the hand. "I bore of you. Leave me."

Ricardo mumbled a soft 'thank you', before he took his pajamas and walked into the bathroom. Normally, he didn't mind changing in front of Alberto, but today was different. Quickly, he stripped out of his tuxedo and draped the clothes over the curtain rod. A thin flow of steam still came from the bathtub from Alberto's earlier shower. Ricardo then put on a clean pair of boxers, some loose track pants, and a white t-shirt.

He refused to look at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't want to see how pitiful he looked. Slowly, he leaned forward and wet his hands, before he washed all of the gel out of his hair. It never ceased to amaze him how much longer it was once all of the gel was washed out of it. And he looked several years younger, too. He combed it back and dried it off, and then he took his clothes back into the room.

"These are the true pleasures of life." Alberto mumbled to himself as he continued to drink. "Money. Fame. Power. Women. What more could a man desire?"

_Love_, Ricardo could think of at least one.

"Ricardo… Ricardo… what is with the sour look on your face? No eres feliz?" Alberto still wore that customary smirk. Ricardo knew that he didn't _really_ care. "Answer me this, Ricardo. What makes you happy?"

Ricardo was shocked by the question. Did Alberto truly want to know? Or was all of this just one mean trick with a bad punch line? "To serve you, El Patron. That is what makes me happy." Ricardo said honestly.

"Then I suppose some men enjoy the more… simple pleasures of life." Alberto said. Was it truly meant to sound so condescending? Ricardo wasn't sure. "Ricardo!"

"Si, El Patron?" Ricardo answered. He was almost all of the way into bed, but that didn't matter.

"Serve me more wine." Came the order.

Ricardo tried not to roll his eyes as he slid out of bed once more. His back protested something fierce, but he tried to not let that show in his eyes. The nausea had returned. Whoever named this 'morning sickness' needed to read up on their definition of 'morning' it was 2:30 AM, which, in Ricardo's book, was still _well_ into the night. Ricardo stretched a bit and made his way over to Alberto. He tried to move fast, but not so fast that he would stumble and fall.

He served Alberto his wine, just as his boss had instructed him to do. The Mexican aristocrat tasted it, before he swirled it around in his wine glass. And then, rather unceremoniously, he spat it out in Ricardo's direction and poured the rest over the announcer's head. Ricardo felt fresh tears brew in his eyes, tears that he refused to allow to fall. His boss had always had a mean streak. He just had to wait it out.

"When I give you a direct order, you are to follow it immediately! What is it about that that is so difficult to understand? You want to make me happy, Ricardo? Well, do you?" Alberto sneered ruthlessly.

Ricardo closed his eyes and nodded sheepishly. The look of disapproval in Alberto's eyes and the fact that he had, once again, somehow managed to disappoint him didn't help his nausea at all. "Si. Lo siento, El Patron."

Alberto reached out to the bedside table and took the bottle of wine. He opened it and poured it all over Ricardo. "Si quieres servime, aprendar a usar la cabeza!"

Ricardo was too stunned to make a comeback. All he could do was watch as Ricardo threw the wine bottle on the ground. "Lo siento, El Patron."

Alberto took a slow breath to calm himself, before he climbed back into bed and looked at Ricardo disdainfully. The boy reeked of expensive wine. "Clean it up, Ricardo."

Ricardo nodded and fell to his knees. He started to sweep the shards into his bare hand. "Of course."

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	3. Broken Hearts

**Title:** Hermosa 

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Alberto Del Rio/Ricardo Rodriguez

**Summary:** Ricardo is sure that Alberto will be the next World Champion. That's not the problem. The problem is, after Alberto _becomes_ champion, what happens to Ricardo?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

**Part:** 3/? – Broken Hearts

**OOOO**

Ricardo blinked blearily. He rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. With narrowed eyes, he looked at the LED numbers and tried to determine what time it was. Finally, he was able to make out a blurry 7:15 AM. It took a moment for it to sink in. And then, his chocolate eyes widened with realization. The flight to the next location for Raw had left at 7:00 AM. Alberto had missed it and it was all… his… fault.

Hesitantly, Ricardo looked over at Alberto's bed. The Mexican aristocrat was still unconscious. He was stretched out all over the bed, the blankets twisted around his midsection just so. Ricardo didn't want to wake him. To be totally honest, he was afraid of what Alberto would do. But he knew that he would have to wake him soon if he wanted Alberto to arrive before the show started. Slowly, the announcer slid out of bed and rose to his feet.

To make matters worse, Alberto was _not_ a morning person. Ricardo walked over to Alberto's bed and stared down at his boss, unsure of what to do. There was no doubt that he would be punished for his foolishness. And Ricardo _hated_ it when Alberto punished him. It made him feel like a child. No. Ricardo shook off any and all fear that he may have had. He had to do this. If he waited, it would only become worse.

"El Patron," he called softly. He cursed himself silently as his voice trembled. "El Patron, it's time to awaken. It's 7:15. We've missed the flight."

Alberto shot up like a rocket, his eyes wide and unfocused. "What do you mean that we've missed the flight?" Suddenly, wide awake, he rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table. "Idiota!" He roared.

"Lo siento, El Patron. I honestly didn't mean to -," Alberto turned to him sharply and Ricardo fell silent.

"You didn't mean to? You didn't mean to?" Alberto roared. "I'm so glad that you didn't mean to, Ricardo. I'm _sure_ that your guilt will bring that plane back."

"Lo siento, El Patron." Ricardo whispered once more, totally ashamed of himself.

Alberto just brushed him off. He rushed out of bed and started to dress himself. He was able to locate one of his dress slacks, but soon found that they were wrinkled. Alberto turned to Ricardo, a scowl on his face. He shook the pants in front of the announcer's eyes, and soon after, all of the color drained out of Ricardo's face. It had been a rule since Ricardo had started to work for Alberto: his clothes were to be ironed every morning.

Alberto threw the pants at Ricardo and mumbled about how 'useless' and 'pathetic' the announcer was. Ricardo felt tears of shame start to burn at his eyes. He honestly didn't mean to oversleep. He had just been so exhausted with the baby and what not and he must've slept through the five different alarms that he had set. But Ricardo couldn't tell him about the baby, because he would tell him to get rid of it. And Ricardo couldn't do that.

"This is just wonderful. I'm already late. Now, I don't have any clothes. What's next? A thunderstorm?" As if on cue, a loud crack of thunder hit the air. "This is just wonderful. It's all your fault, you know."

Ricardo nodded weakly. He already felt horrible for what had happened. "Lo siento, El Patron. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I swear to it. Just give me one more chance, please."

"Why do you deserve a second chance, Ricardo? You can't do anything right. I ask you to run me a bath, the water is too hot. I ask you to bring me wine, you dawdle." Alberto hissed.

"I do not mean to upset you, El Patron. It's just, I've been so tired -," once more, Alberto cut him off.

"Aww… es el pobre bebé cansado?" Alberto taunted him.

"Please… don't make fun of me…" Ricardo pleaded uselessly.

Alberto struck him hard across the face. Ricardo stumbled back and blindly reached for his stinging cheek in astonishment. "Yo soy el jefe! No me digas qué hacer!"

Ricardo couldn't believe it. Alberto had been verbally abusive before, but he had never actually tried to cause Ricardo physical harm before. It scared Ricardo terribly. A new wave of nausea hit and threatened to reveal what little food he had been able to hold down since his last episode five hours earlier. Alberto didn't even seem to realize what he had done. He continued to advance on Ricardo until the announcer was backed into a corner.

Alberto saw the slight fear in Ricardo's eyes and backed off momentarily. "Fine. You have one last chance. Bring the car around front and wait for me there."

Ricardo hesitated for a moment. "El Patron…"

"Hágalo ahora o que pequeño moretón en la mejilla será el menor de sus preocupaciones!" Alberto yelled.

Ricardo was fairly certain that he had never moved faster in his life. He took what little stuff he could carry under Alberto's watchful eye and ran toward the elevator. There was no time to be wasted, after all. When the elevator came, he stepped inside, thankful that nobody else was around. He touched the button for the ground floor and then leaned against the far wall, closing his eyes and letting a few tears sneak through.

After a moment, he opened them and looked down at his belly. Four months, the doctor said. His little angel was four months along. That left another five to decide what he wanted to do about Alberto. Could he stay with him? He doubted that he should after that little incident back at the hotel room. Sadly, he knew what he needed to do. It just hurt to think that it had become so bad, so fast…

**OOOOO**

"Hello." A kind, female officer smiled up at him from behind the desk. Ricardo didn't know why, but she made him feel comfortable. "What can I do for you today, sir?"

"I need to file a police report. I'm not sure if it would be considered domestic abuse or just abuse, however." Ricardo said. He couldn't meet the woman's eyes as he said the words.

"What do you mean that you don't know?" The woman asked, confused.

"It's a long story and I'd rather not talk about it out in the open like this, if that's okay?" Ricardo asked softly.

The woman nodded animatedly. "That's fine, sir. If you'd follow me, then."

The woman led him into one of the rooms in the back. It was small and secluded, with only a small rectangular table with a chair on either side. A small note on the wall said that the conversation may be recorded for use later. Ricardo had seen this kind of room on several of Alberto's stories. It was an interrogation room. But, at least in this instance, Ricardo wasn't a criminal. He was a victim.

"Now, explain to me what you're confused about." The woman said kindly. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, sir. I'm here to help you." She continued.

Ricardo told her about his relationship to Alberto: how Alberto had found him when he was younger and had taken him under his wing, how he worked as his announcer in the WWE for Raw and SmackDown, and how they were occasionally lovers. But Ricardo also mentioned that Alberto had a fiancée, whom he loved very much. Ricardo could never be 'the one' for Alberto while she was still in the picture.

He continued to explain that, as of late, Alberto had become extremely verbally abusive. He would call Ricardo all sorts of names, in both Spanish and English. But the real incident had happened earlier that day. Ricardo said that he had awoken late and they had missed their flight in. Alberto's anger had boiled over and he had hit Ricardo so hard that he had stumbled back. Ricardo showed the officer the bruise on his cheek.

"If you had some form of romantic/sexual relationship with Alberto, then it would be considered domestic abuse." The officer explained. "Now, you have several options. You could press charges."

"Oh, no. I couldn't do that. That would take away his shot at the World Title." Ricardo shook his head.

The woman frowned. "What's more important to _you_, sir? His shot at the World Title or your health and safety?"

Ricardo still shook his head. "I can't do that to him. He has worked so hard and he truly deserves this chance. I just… I can't." Ricardo continued to shoot the idea down.

"The other option is that we can bring him down to the station overnight. We'll run his blood alcohol level, check for any unnatural substances in his system, and enroll him in a three month anger management course."

"Would he know that it was me who turned him in?" Ricardo asked warily.

The female officer shook her head. "He doesn't have to know if you don't want him to."

After a minute, Ricardo nodded. "I like that idea."

**OOOO**

**A/N:** I think that Alberto could do well with some anger management… anyway, Please Review!


	4. Hard Time

**Title:** Hermosa 

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Alberto Del Rio/Ricardo Rodriguez

**Summary:** Ricardo is sure that Alberto will be the next World Champion. That's not the problem. The problem is, after Alberto _becomes_ champion, what happens to Ricardo?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

**Part:** 4/? – Hard Time

**OOOO**

"Mr. Del Rio, your blood alcohol level is at .25. You have tested negative for illegal substances." The officer informed him. Alberto rolled his eyes. "However, you will be booked and sent to the jail. You will be released tomorrow."

"What?" Alberto's chocolate eyes widened with disbelief. "I am a man, not an animal! I do not need to be locked behind steel bars!" The officer reached out for him to try and calm him down. "Don't touch me, creature!"

"I am only trying to act in your best interest, Mr. Del Rio. Please, just calm down and we will sort all of this out. All you have to do is do the time and serve out your time in anger management…"

"Anger management?" Alberto asked, outraged. He couldn't believe this. He didn't have anger issues.

"Mr. Del Rio – _please_, calm down. I don't want to have to use force." The officer said.

"How dare you? I am a Mexican aristocrat, almost _royalty_. You, creature, are beneath me." Alberto spat.

The officer rolled his eyes and turned Alberto around, before he secured the handcuffs around the man's wrists and started to lead him back to the cells. He had to deal with loonies all the time, so he wasn't all too shocked by Alberto's character. However, the whole 'Mexican aristocrat' bid was new. He would have to remember that when he went out to the bar with his friends after work. He was sure that they would be amused by it.

He unlocked one of the cells and threw Alberto inside rather unceremoniously. The aristocrat stumbled and, before he could recover, the officer had unlocked the handcuffs that were around his wrists and locked the door to the cell firmly. There was no chance that Alberto would escape his confinement. Alberto heard a low hiss from the cell across the way and looked to find another inmate's dead, black eyes focused in on him. It unsettled him.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow. Try not to piss off the other inmates. They aren't known to play nice." The officer said in all seriousness. A man that beat his lover wouldn't last five minutes alone in jail.

"Wait!" Alberto called out. He was frantic now. "Don't I have a phone call?"

The officer's eyes widened in disbelief. "You'll only be here one night. You don't even have any charges against you. Think of this as a cool-down period. And then, you have to report to anger management."

"And if I don't?" Alberto raised one dark eyebrow. "What if I don't show up to this anger management course? It's not like you can force me to attend."

"Actually, we can. You've been ordered by the state to attend the class or you will spend a period of up to five months behind bars for domestic violence and assault and battery." The officer explained.

"And I don't have a phone call?" Alberto asked. It would seem as if justice had failed him.

"No." The officer confirmed.

The officer walked away without another word. Alberto frowned and fell back against the wall. He didn't understand what had caused this. What had he done to deserve to be treated like an animal? He wasn't an animal, he was a man. A Mexican aristocrat, no less. And if he only had that phone call, he could call his father and all of this would be sorted out in no time. But that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

So, Alberto wandered over to the hard, metal bunk bed in the corner of the room. It stood next to a small urinal and a shoddy sink that looked like it was about to fall off of the wall. How was anyone expected to live like this? Alberto shook his head as he climbed onto the bed and tried to make himself comfortable. Once the thin blanket was over him, he fell into a restless sleep…

**OOOO**

Ricardo looked into the mirror. It had only been a few days since he had learned about the baby, but his abdomen had already stretched a little bit more. His shirts had become more than a little tight in the middle and he had been forced to buy them one size larger to try and hide the abnormal bulge. It was no secret that Ricardo had minor issues with his weight. It had fluctuated a bit over the years. But this…_ this_ was drastic.

"I don't know what I want to name you, baby. I don't think that you'll want to be called baby forever." Ricardo chuckled humorlessly at his own joke. "And Alberto won't be of any assistance in the matter…"

Now that Ricardo actually thought about it, he found it odd that he hadn't heard from Alberto yet. It was about 12:00 PM and the Mexican still hadn't been released from the jail cell that they had kept him in overnight. Ricardo had actually come to regret that decision. Alberto had said many times before that he wasn't an animal. Only animals such as Cena and Sheamus deserved to be in cells.

Ricardo dressed himself slowly. First, he selected a white undershirt that hugged tightly to his body. And then, he went for a more eclectic blue button-down that seemed to shimmer in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. He tucked this into some back dressy slacks with a dark black leather belt that matched. It was too hot for a suit jacket, so he left that in his suitcase. Hell, it was too hot for the button-down shirt, but he had to look professional.

That's when the call came, "Hello?"

"_Ricardo, this is Alberto. This… this menace to society has finally released me and I wish for you to bring the car so that I may return to the hotel in comfort. And this is your only warning. If I find so much as a scratch -,"_

"I understand, El Patron. I am truly sorry that you had to endure this trauma." It would seem that Alberto had not learned from his little stint in the jail. "I will arrive with the car shortly. Adios, El Patron."

Ricardo was about to end the call when Alberto said, _"Oh, and Ricardo?"_

Ricardo swallowed hard. He knew that voice. It was the same voice that Alberto had used before he struck Ricardo earlier. "What can I do for you, El Patron?"

"_I do believe that we need to have some one-on-one time. I shall take you back to my hotel room and we will have a… talk. I will teach you the true meaning of assault and battery, mi amigo."_ Alberto threatened.

"Alberto…" Ricardo choked out. For the first time since he could remember, he forgot his official title.

"_Bring the car."_ And then, the line went dead.

A tremor of fear shot down Ricardo's spine and he realized that Alberto had learned nothing from his time in jail. In fact, Ricardo was almost positive that the stint behind bars had made the Mexican aristocrat even bitterer than before. As fast as he could, he took the keys to the car and his sunglasses and raced downstairs. He didn't even wait for the elevator. He was too afraid of what Alberto would do if he made him wait.

But it was only after he made it downstairs and into the parking lot around back of the hotel that he saw it. A tow truck had come in. Thankfully, it wasn't for Alberto's car. It was for the car beside it. But when it started to lift the car onto the bed of the tow truck, the cars were parked too close together and it left a long, silver streak on Alberto's car. Ricardo's heart leapt into his chest and he worried that he might faint.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" He hated to sound like Vickie, but this was an emergency situation. "Sir? Do you see what you've just done to my car? It's ruined because you were careless."

The tow-truck driver rolled down his window and inspected the damage. "I don't see what the issue is there, kid. Don't worry about it too much." He said, before he lowered the rim of his hat to Ricardo. "Good day, kid."

"No, wait! I can't take the car to my boss like this!" Ricardo called out, but it was already too late. The tow-truck driver had driven off into the afternoon.

"Great." Ricardo turned back to the car, totally crest-fallen. "What am I supposed to do now? Alberto will kill me for sure!" He exclaimed sadly. He put a hand on his stomach and leaned back on the car. He needed a game plan.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	5. Please, Don't Hurt Me

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M (Mature)  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Ricardo had an idea. He took what little money he carried around with him in his wallet and rented a nice car. It wasn't the hundred-thousand dollar car that had just been totaled by the tow-truck driver, but it was rather nice and he prayed that Alberto wouldn't mind. He climbed behind the wheel and drove off in the direction of the Police Station. Ricardo arrived in a matter of minutes and took a spot near the main entrance.

Alberto was there, still in handcuffs. The officer looked at him uncertainly. It was obvious that he had heard the threats that Alberto had made on the phone, but he couldn't do much about it until Alberto acted on them and Ricardo pressed charges. Ricardo climbed out of the car and the officer unlocked Alberto's handcuffs. Alberto took one look at the car and scowled. Ricardo swallowed hard as he led Alberto over to the side door.

"What is this, Ricardo? This is not my car." Alberto said nastily. He slid into the car anyway and watched as Ricardo did the same. "Tell me, Ricardo. What happened to the car?"

"There was a little accident. It's not that bad, really. I wouldn't worry about it." Ricardo tried to say, but he refused to look at Alberto. He missed the scowl that Alberto sent him.

"I _want_ to know, Ricardo. You're not in a position to tell me what I want to know and what I don't." Alberto said.

Ricardo's hands tightened around the wheel as he pulled out of the station. "It's scratched."

"What do you mean it's scratched?" Alberto screeched. It was a rather unmanly sound, not that Ricardo would have mentioned that fact out loud. "What the hell did you do to my car, idiota?"

Ricardo looked totally heartbroken at the idea. "I didn't do _anything_ to your car, El Patron. I swear. It was the tow-truck driver. It was _his_ fault!" Ricardo screamed.

"My car was _towed?"_ Alberto fumed.

"No, not at all. That's not what I meant!" Ricardo tried, but it was useless.

An uncomfortable tension settled between them. Ricardo drove back to the hotel as fast as he could, just a little bit above the speed limit, but not so much that it would cause them to be pulled over. The last thing that he wanted was to arouse more anger out of Alberto. Ricardo pulled back into the hotel parking lot and stopped the car. Quickly, he made his way over to Alberto's door and opened it for him.

The Mexican aristocrat was barely out of the car before he shoved Ricardo back into the car so hard that it left a dent in the metal. Ricardo let out a low moan and, instinctually, his arms wrapped around his stomach to defend the unborn baby. Alberto only chuckled at his weakness. He patted Ricardo's cheek condescendingly, and when Ricardo started to relax a little bit, Alberto slapped him so hard that Ricardo saw stars.

When Alberto ordered Ricardo to take him to his car, Ricardo didn't hesitate. Even though he knew that it was bad, he knew that it would only be worse if he waited to do as he had been ordered. Immediately, Ricardo snaked out of the choke-hold that Alberto had him in and rushed over to the car that was still parked out in the lot. Alberto followed close behind, and when he saw it, that tense silence re-enveloped them.

"Ricardo." Alberto said softly, slowly.

"Yes, El Patron?" Ricardo asked warily.

"Idiota! Do you not realize how much money this car was worth? A small fortune, and much more than you will ever make in your lifetime!" Alberto exclaimed rudely as he tossed Ricardo around a bit.

"Lo siento, El Patron. I really tried to fix it, I did. The tow-truck driver didn't care! He just drove off after the accident. Lo siento. Lo siento!" Ricardo spat out the words as fast as he could, but they didn't seem to calm Alberto.

"I should have known better." Alberto spat as he took a few steps back. "You do not trust filth with gold."

"Lo siento, El Patron." Ricardo said softly.

"Every dime that it costs to repair this will come directly from your paycheck and your personal savings, with interest! Do you understand me?" Alberto asked.

"Si, El Patron." Ricardo nodded hastily.

Alberto did not say another word. He stalked off toward the hotel with the expectation that Ricardo was behind him. Quickly, they collected all of Alberto's luggage and Ricardo carried it downstairs, anxious to be of assistance when he had already pissed off Alberto… They checked out of the hotel and Alberto flirted with the pretty woman behind the reception desk. Ricardo's face burned with shame. He knew that he would never be good enough for Alberto.

All of the clothes were loaded into the back of the car and this time, it was Alberto behind the wheel. He mumbled something about not trusting Ricardo with his car in fluent Spanish, but it was under his breath so Ricardo couldn't really hear him. Ricardo just leaned back in the seat and rubbed his stomach in slow circles. He was extremely thankful that the little incident with Alberto hadn't harmed the baby at all…

* * *

"What the hell was that out there, Ricardo? You cost me the match!" Alberto exclaimed. He was furious and humiliated from his loss to Randy Orton just a few minutes earlier.

"But… but you told me to…" Alberto's eyes flashed dangerously, and Ricardo hastily raised his hands in a show of innocence. "Lo siento, El Patron. I have overstepped the boundaries."

"Si, you have. You are washed-up… I am the wrestler. Do not think that you can mix them up." Alberto said.

"Of course, El Patron. It was an honest mistake." Ricardo said once more.

Ricardo sighed as Alberto slammed the door to their locker room, effectively locking Ricardo out of the room. Ricardo sighed and sat down in the hallway. He was tired and nauseous, but he couldn't do much about that until Alberto cooled off and decided to head back to the hotel room. Ricardo couldn't go back by himself because they had carpooled over and Alberto would be furious if he was stranded at the arena because of Ricardo's selfishness.

Ricardo nearly had a heart attack when he heard voices in the distance. Alberto had a private locker room, so it was rare that anyone ever came down this particular hallway. Ricardo looked up and came face to face with Randy Orton, the reason that he was in hot water at the moment. If there was one person that he _didn't_ want to deal with at the moment, it would be WWE's Apex Predator. Randy was with John, but when he saw Ricardo, he stopped.

"You okay there, kid? Is that a bruise on your face?" Randy asked. He seemed tired, but time away from the business would do that to you. There was uncharacteristic concern on your face.

"I'm fine. Why should you be worried about me?" Ricardo asked rudely.

"Because Alberto's been… off, lately. Just, be careful around him, okay?" Randy asked. "Nobody knows what he'll do if he doesn't win that championship."

"I will." Ricardo assured him.

"Good." Randy smiled, before he walked off.

* * *

**A/N:** Please Review!


	6. Punishment

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M (Mature)  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Domestic Violence

* * *

It seemed like life only went from bad to worse for Ricardo.

The next week, on Raw, Sheamus drove off with Alberto's car and returned it totally wrecked. Alberto had ordered Ricardo to clean it, but Ricardo didn't even know where to start. It looked like Sheamus had lost his lunch on the hood, and there were several scratches in the paint. There was even a cone in one of the seats! How did Alberto expect Ricardo to be able to clean this up so that they could drive home? It wasn't possible.

But Ricardo tried anyway. He ran some soap and water into a bucket that he had found in the janitor's closet, and with a wet cloth, he started to scrub away the mess that was on the hood. The combination of the chemicals and the smell of the car was awful and it made Ricardo's stomach turn uneasily, but what could he do? It wasn't like he could disobey a direct order from his boss. Alberto would fire him, or worse…

No. Ricardo refused to think about that. He plastered his best smile onto his face and worked twice as hard, determined to make each second count. About ten minutes later, the hood actually resembled the hood of a fine foreign car. Save for a few scratches, of course. Ricardo threw out the cloth and found a new one, which he used to wash the doors and the trunk. Once that was finished, all that was left was the interior.

One look inside and Ricardo rushed toward the nearest trashcan and vomited. Yes, Sheamus had _definitely_ lost his lunch on the floor of the passenger side. There were Mexican food wrappings from what looked like Taco Bell all over the car and a few unidentifiable stains here and there. Ricardo was thankful that the seats were white, so he doused the stains in bleach and waited for them to dry while he threw out the wrappers.

"El Patron!" Ricardo was proud of his success. It may not look like the hundreds of thousands of dollars that it was worth, but at least it resembled a car. "I've done what I can, but it still needs a fresh coat of paint."

Alberto looked it over with a critical eye, before he turned to look at Ricardo condescendingly. "A fresh coat of paint that wouldn't be needed if you hadn't been such an _idiota_ and left the keys in the ignition!"

Ricardo flinched and looked down. The sense of pride left him immediately. "Lo siento, El Patron."

"Do you know how much this will cost me?" Alberto continued to sneer. He was beyond furious. He was livid.

"El Patron, I swear to you now that I will do whatever it takes to make this right. Anything. I'll pay for it all myself if I have to. Please, I don't deserve compassion. I deserve to be punished." Ricardo pleaded with Alberto.

Alberto smirked darkly at Ricardo's words. "Did you say that you would do… anything, Ricardo?"

A tremor of fear chased down Ricardo's spine at that question, but he shook it off and nodded hurriedly. "I am at your mercy, El Patron. You are the master and I must pay for what I have done."

"Perro!" Ricardo flinched at the word. He wasn't a dog! He was a human, just like Alberto. "You will not grovel."

Ricardo's shoulders sagged at his foolish mistake. "Lo siento, El Patron. I shall not grovel. I shall have dignity."

"Yes. Dignity." Alberto's smile returned as he started to walk circles around Ricardo. "You have dignity only so that I can strip it away. You have pride only so that I may stomp on it. You are _mine_, Ricardo. And you've acted out of line."

"Lo siento -," but before Ricardo could finish, Alberto pressed a finger to Ricardo's lips.

"No. You will not apologize. You will be punished, just as you requested. Go back to our hotel room and strip naked. Lay on the bed and wait for me there." Alberto ordered.

Ricardo didn't have a chance to answer. After Alberto issued his command, he turned on his heel to walk off. Most likely, he wanted to talk to the new Raw GM, AJ Lee, about the punishment that Sheamus would receive for what he had done to Alberto's car. If the situation escalated, Alberto was not above filing a police report. The only thing that held him back was the fact that Sheamus would be stripped of his title and their title match would be cancelled.

Ricardo sucked in a slow breath and tried to think of what to do. He didn't want to be punished by Alberto. If it wasn't obvious, Alberto had quite the cruel streak. Ricardo could never been sure about what he would do next. But what he _did_ know was the fact that the consequences would be ten-times worse if he disobeyed a direct order from Alberto. And so he swallowed his pride and started the short, but lonely trek back to the hotel room.

* * *

Just like Alberto had ordered, Ricardo had stripped out of his clothes and folded them neatly onto one of the nearby chairs. He knew how much Alberto hated it when he left a mess lying around. But when he moved over to the bed and tried to force himself to lie down, he couldn't do it. The hesitation he felt only increased when he felt his baby kick in his stomach. What if Alberto hurt the baby? Ricardo couldn't live with himself if he let that happen.

The hesitation lasted until he heard the familiar click of the keycard in the door. Alberto was back. Pushing all of the hesitation down low into his stomach, Ricardo flopped down onto the bed and rolled over so that he was facing Alberto. He made sure to keep his eyes lowered, afraid of the extra punishment that he would receive if he looked at Alberto's face without a direct order to do so.

"Ah, so I see that you _do_ have half of a brain after all. Or, at least, you know how to follow a direct order." Alberto teased him. "Tell me, Ricardo, why are we here?"

"Because I left the keys in the ignition and allowed Sheamus to steal your car." A sharp swat to the behind and Ricardo quickly added, "Master."

"Do you not care about how much money that car cost me?" Alberto asked.

"I _do_ care, El Patron -," Ricardo started, but Alberto hit him on the ass again.

"That was a rhetorical question, Ricardo." Alberto rolled his eyes, as if this were obvious. "Are you sorry?"

Ricardo was still reeling from the mixture of pain and pleasure, brought on by the sharp smack on the ass. "Am I sorry for what?" And then, slowly, his eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

"Oh, Ricky, Ricky, Ricky…" Alberto 'tsked'. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me with no choice."

Forcefully, Alberto took hold of Ricardo's thin wrists and dragged his entire body up to the headboard, where a pair of dungeon-esque handcuffs were already twisted around the wooden bars. Ricardo struggled a little bit, but he was no match for Alberto on a good day, and especially not now that he had a baby to worry about. Alberto also put a gag in Ricardo's mouth to muffle the poor boy's screams.

In full-punishment mode, there were no kisses, no gentle caresses, nothing but cold, hard, pain – and the occasional flicker of pleasure. He took out a metal vibrator and covered it in a sparse amount of lube. Just enough to ease it into Ricardo, but not enough to make it comfortable. And then, with the dial all the way on high, he shoved it into the smaller man. Ricardo let out a loud whimper as he felt himself tear, but Alberto smacked his chest and he fell silent.

After a few moments, the sensation of the vibrator in his ass was too much. The pain, which was now overwhelmed by the pleasure, twisted up Ricardo's spine and made the boy see stars. But just as he was about to cum, Alberto slid a cock ring onto him and tightened it until the flow of blood and semen was cut off. Ricardo screamed behind the gag, but it was muffled and nobody could hear him.

"Remember that you asked for this, Ricardo. Maybe, next time, you'll be more careful when you touch my stuff." Alberto smirked down at him as he yanked the vibrator out of Ricardo.

The motion burned and Ricardo cried out, but the tears didn't come until he saw some blood smeared on the vibrator.

"You look so beautiful like this, Ricardo. All spread out and at my mercy. This is all that you'll ever be good for. No man or woman will ever want you. The only place that you're desired is right… here." Alberto said.

_But you don't really want me_, Ricardo thought. _You only want me for my body. You use me._

"You're trash, Ricardo. You're a low-down, pathetic slut. You're lucky that I even deign to sleep with you. I'm sure that nobody else ever will." Alberto cursed at him. It made Ricardo feel dirty, somehow.

_If you don't want me, then why don't you release me from my contract and let me go?_ Ricardo asked himself.

"And now, you'll see yourself for exactly what you are. Nothing. You are nothing to me, you are nothing to anybody else." Alberto hissed out, before he sank into Ricardo and started to fuck him mercilessly.

Ricardo just bit down on his gag and sobbed silently. He didn't understand how he could love Alberto so much. The man constantly berated him and abused him. He called him names, made fun of him, and then used his body for his own pleasure. But, for some reason, Ricardo craved him. He wanted more. No… he _needed_ more. Without Alberto, he _was_ nothing. And he refused to allow himself to be nothing anymore.

Alberto finished off within him and immediately pulled out, with barely enough strength to keep his body upright. Still, he un-cuffed Ricardo and allowed the younger man to fall back onto the pillows. Ricardo was totally exhausted. But Alberto didn't touch the cock ring. Ricardo looked down at it with watery eyes, and even before Alberto said it out loud, he knew what was next.

"That is your punishment. You are to leave that on all night. If you so much as touch yourself, then I will have you keep it on all day tomorrow as well. Do you understand?" Alberto asked nastily.

Ricardo's eyes widened with fear. Keep it on all night? He already felt like he would burst! But Alberto wanted an answer, so Ricardo nodded. "Si, El Patron. I understand."

* * *

Ricardo was almost afraid of what would happen out at SmackDown. He didn't expect for Sheamus to offer to have their World Title match right then and there, but it wasn't as if Alberto was about to object. However, Ricardo didn't like the odds. He knew that Alberto was still fuming over his car (which, by the way, had cost more to repair than the car was actually worth) and Ricardo didn't know _what_ he would do.

That was, of course, until the actual match was set to start. But, instead of a match, a bunch of men in uniform came down and started to beat on Sheamus. Ricardo cast a sidelong look at Alberto, but the look on the Mexican aristocrats face told the entire story. This was a plot. A set up of sorts. He wanted payback for his car and had hired a bunch of thugs to come and do the dirty work for him. And, from the look on his face, was proud of it too.

Ricardo was disgusted.


	7. The Other Woman

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Well, now Ricardo was truly out of luck. Because of his actions on SmackDown, the new SmackDown GM, Booker T, took away Alberto's title shot at SummerSlam. To be totally honest, it was a decision that made Ricardo afraid. Alberto was a loose cannon and there couldn't be any indication of what he would do. However, much to Ricardo's shock, he didn't lash out. He didn't cause a scene. No, he did none of this.

Instead, he left for his anger management class an hour before he was supposed to show up. When Ricardo asked him why, he told him that he wanted to drive around for a little bit to clear his head. Ricardo had accepted that as the truth. He really had no reason to believe otherwise. Besides, if Ricardo so much as implied that he didn't believe what Alberto had said, he would be in for extreme punishment. So he kept his mouth shut.

Ricardo took a shower and dressed. He picked out a pair of loose black slacks and a white and black pinstripe-style shirt. Even when Alberto wasn't around, Ricardo always strived to look his best. After all, his appearance was a reflection on how well Alberto treated him. If someone believed that he abused the help, then word of the misdemeanor would come back to his father and his funds would be cut off.

So Ricardo went down to breakfast. Unfortunately, Sheamus (and several other wrestlers who Alberto had harmed over the years) were in the hotel restaurant when he went down there. "Fella!" Sheamus exclaimed.

Ricardo flinched. He put on his best smile and turned to face the Celtic Warrior. "Sheamus!" His voice sounded undeniably fake. "What do you want? Do you know what Alberto will do to me if he sees me with you?"

Sheamus' amusement faltered for a moment. "No. I don't know. But you act like he'll hurt you!"

Ricardo shook his head. "No. What? Alberto has never hurt me before! What would make you think that he has hit me?" Ricardo started to babble.

"I never asked if he would hit you, fella." Sheamus pointed out.

Ricardo frowned. He tried to think back and remember what it was that Sheamus had asked him, but his mind drew a blank. Maybe it was all of the hormones that were swirling around that he wasn't used to. He just found that he couldn't think as fast as he could usually. He had even stumbled when he had announced Alberto the night before. He worried that Alberto had started to notice, but Alberto was otherwise occupied.

Thankfully, Sheamus didn't ask any more questions. He walked away to join the likes of John Cena and Randy Orton, who had been a known couple for several years now. They were all closed friends. Ricardo sighed. He wished that he could have friends like that. However, that was kind of difficult when he was around Alberto more often than not. Alberto didn't attract that many people too him, after all…

* * *

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You know that I would be there if I could. But you know that I cannot leave Ricardo alone for any stretch of time. He cannot be trusted." Alberto told the woman on the other end of the line.

_"If he is so untrustworthy, Alberto, then why don't you fire him?"_ She asked warily._ "I'm beginning to think that he is closer to you than I am. I don't like him, Alberto. You shouldn't be so attached to the help."_

"I'm not attached to him." Alberto denied.

His fiancé sighed._ "I don't trust him. I want you to fire him, Alberto. Fire him… now."_

It wasn't a statement, it was a demand. Alberto frowned. He didn't like it when anyone demanded him to do anything, especially not a woman who he barely knew that he was only supposed to marry for political reasons. His father had arranged for the ceremony and the two had only met a few weeks before their parents had told them about the proposal. It was sad, but that was the way that it had to be. If Alberto had his way… well, that was only a dream.

"Fine." Alberto sighed. "I'll make you an offer. If I lose my match at SummerSlam to Sheamus, which has just been reinstated via Sheamus' request, I'll fire Ricardo."

_"Do you promise?"_ She asked. She didn't even mention how much faith she had in him that he would win.

Alberto swallowed hard and nodded, even if she couldn't see it. _"_Si. My word is as good as gold."


	8. Flight

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

"Ricardo, we have to talk." Alberto told his announcer. It was after his match on Raw, where he had lost to Randy Orton. Ricardo was tense and there was an uncomfortable stress in the air.

"Si, El Patron?" Ricardo answered distractedly. He sounded drained and tired. And now that Alberto really looked at him, he looked paler as well. "What is it that you needed to talk to me about?"

Alberto was silent for a moment, before he looked at Ricardo with an air of determination. "I don't know how to say this _nicely_, but I bet your contract on my success at SummerSlam."

"What?" Ricardo spluttered. He looked like he was about to choke on the air.

"You heard me. I bet your contract on my success at SummerSlam and I lost. Even if it was only because of a technicality, I still lost. So, you're relieved of your duties as my announcer." Alberto said.

Ricardo looked like he had been run over by a tractor-trailer. "What?"

Alberto frowned and his eyebrow twitched. "Are you deaf, perro? I said that you're fired."

Ricardo felt as if he was about to be sick. He couldn't actually be fired, could he? But from the look of seriousness on Alberto's face, Ricardo knew that it was true. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. Slowly, he lowered his eyes down to the floor and felt a dark flush stain his cheeks. Ricardo didn't know what to do. Did Alberto really think that he could just throw him away like he was trash? And then Ricardo realized that yes, he could.

Without another word between them, Ricardo took all of his stuff and stuffed it into his bag. He threw it over his arm and ran out of the room, totally mortified. How could Alberto do this to him? How could he just throw away what they had? And then Ricardo realized that they didn't really have _anything_. Ricardo was nothing more than a toy to Alberto. That realization hurt more than the fact that he had just been fired.

Ricardo continued to run. Run away from all of his troubles. That was, until he realized that he had carpooled with Alberto and had no way to return back to the hotel. That, and the fact that he shared a hotel room with Alberto. Could this day become any worse? Ricardo just wanted to climb under the nearest rock and wither away to nothingness. Wouldn't that have been nice? But that was only a dream.

"Ricky Ricardo, fancy meeting you here! What's the matter, fella? You look a little down." Sheamus threw an arm around Ricardo's shoulders. He wore that eternally happy smile on his face.

"I was just… Alberto just… I was fired. I… I don't understand why. He told me that he had bet my contract… but why would he… why would he do that?" Ricardo stuttered. For the first time, he realized he was crying.

"Hey there, fella. No reason to be so upset, now. You can't be that upset to say goodbye to Bertie." Sheamus said. He was trying to cheer Ricardo up, but it wasn't working.

"I won't have any money. How will I support my…" Ricardo immediately shut his mouth. He couldn't believe that he had almost revealed that information to _Sheamus_ of all people.

"You're afraid that you won't be able to support what, Ricky?" Sheamus asked, confused.

"Nothing." Ricardo shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's not your battle."

"You know, I know you don't think so, but a lot of people care about you, Ricky. Maybe if you stepped out of Bertie's shadow more often, you would be able to see that." Sheamus told him.

"Really?" Ricardo asked. He sounded so innocent that it nearly broke Sheamus' heart.

"Yeah, fella." Sheamus reassured him. "Now, why don't you let me drive you back to the hotel? You can grab your stuff and I'll give you a drive to the airport, free of charge."

Ricardo sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

True to his word, Sheamus had driven Ricardo to the nearest airport. Ricardo had used his I-Phone to order a ticket to Mexico, where his family awaited him. They didn't know about the baby, but they did know that he had been fired by Alberto and anxiously awaited his return. Ricardo had found it eerily ironic. Bad news sure traveled fast. He thanked Sheamus for his trouble with a small smile and walked into the airport.

He went up to the front desk and came face-to-face with a cheery blond clerk. She lazily popped her pink bubble gum obnoxiously. He knew that he would need to talk to her to officially receive his ticket. When he walked over to the desk, she smiled at him. The one-thousand watt smile could only mean one thing. She recognized him as Alberto's announcer, and when her smile fell, she wanted to know where Alberto was.

"I have a pre-paid one-way ticket to Mexico. It would be under the name Ricardo Rodriguez." Ricardo told her. Her bright blue eyes widened and she immediately started to gush.

"Ricardo Rodriguez? You mean, Ricardo Rodriguez? As in, like, the Alberto Del Rio's ring announcer?" She seemed extremely excited. "I don't understand. Where is Alberto?"

"It's a long story. I'd rather not say. Now, can I please have my ticket?" Ricardo asked her as kindly as he could.

She nodded, but made no move to print up his ticket. "So, tell me, what is it that you say when you announce Alberto in the ring? I don't speak any Spanish, so I wouldn't know."

"Please." Ricardo didn't whine, but he was about ready to curse someone out. "I really need to be on that flight. And it doesn't really matter _how_ I announced him in the ring, because I won't be doing it anymore."

"What do you mean?" The woman looked startled by this declaration.

"I'm leaving the WWE. Now, may I have my ticket?" He said a few choice words in Spanish and she stared at him blankly.

She seemed to be disturbed by the fact that he intended to leave the WWE, but from the look on her face, clearly understood that she could not convince him otherwise. With a roll of her eyes and a slightly less chipper smile, she printed up his ticket and told him to head down to the fifth gate. He should hurry, because the flight would leave in ten minutes. Ricardo thanked her and then he left… Who knew what would await him in this new life?


	9. Is This Love?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg

* * *

It felt unusual to not have Ricardo with him as he traveled. Well, _unusual_ was a bit of an understatement. He wasn't used to manual labor – Ricardo would do all of that himself – and to have to do it himself, well, that was worth beneath the status of 'aristocrat'. There was nobody to comment on the idiocy of the characters in his stories. There was nobody to run his bath for him. Life as he knew it was over.

But Alberto was a man of his word, at least where his fiancé was concerned. He had fired Ricardo and he had to admit that it was _easily_ the worst decision that he had ever made. If only for the fact that he had nobody to yell at, nobody to vent to about how all of the peasants of the WWE Universe were beneath him, and nobody to have his back in his matches. For the first time in over a year, he was all alone.

Alberto fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. He wondered where Ricardo was. He hadn't even bothered to check-in on the boy after he had fired him. But when he came back to the hotel room, he found that Ricardo had taken all of his stuff and had left. Alberto wondered if Ricardo was somewhere else in the hotel. It was possible, but Alberto doubted it. If he wasn't Alberto's announcer, there really wasn't a need for him in the WWE.

His phone started to vibrate on the bedside table. Silently, he hoped that it was Ricardo. Unfortunately, that was not the case. "Hola," he sighed.

_"Alberto!"_ Her voice screeched into his ear. It sounded like nails on the chalkboard. _"Did you hold up your end of the deal? Did you kick that little weasel out on his ass?"_

"He was not a _weasel_. He was a… friend." Alberto offered weakly. That word shocked him. When had Ricardo become a _friend_ to him?

_"He was not a friend to you, Alberto. He was your help."_ The woman hissed brutally.

"How do you know what he was to me?" Alberto hissed. "You know nothing about him at all."

The woman sighed softly. _"You know that I hate to fight with you, Alberto…"_

"You are the one who instigates the fights, woman! Don't speak about what you don't know!" Alberto rolled his eyes. "I'm tired. I will call you later. Goodbye."

Before the woman could say another word, Alberto ended the call and threw his phone into the wall. It crashed into the wall and splintered into two pieces, and he was sure that the screen would have cracked had it not been for the protector that he had bought. Alberto cursed fluently as he walked over and retrieved all of the pieces, which he dumped back onto his bedside table. It was such a simple act, but it was a simple act that Ricardo would have done.

Alberto crashed down onto his bed. What did Ricardo mean to him? His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he thought of him as… just a servant, or even a friend. But if it wasn't either of those, what could it be? He couldn't love him, could he? Alberto shook his head and cursed his foolishness. Why would he even think such an idiotic thought? Love _Ricardo_? Alberto chuckled. The same day that hell froze over…

* * *

"Momma," Ricardo smiled and watched as the older woman fussed over him. She stopped when she put a hand on his stomach and felt a small bump there. His smile fell. "Momma, I can explain."

"Ricardo, what is this? Are you…" she choked on the word 'pregnant' and looked as if she would faint. "Have you married him? Who is it? Did I not teach you to be safe?"

Ricardo felt even more ashamed of himself then he had before. "I'm sorry, Momma. You _did_ teach me to be safe, but I wasn't. And I cannot marry him because he… he has a fiancé."

His mother's chocolate brown eyes widened considerably. "You were his _whore_?"

Ricardo just about choked on the air. "I wouldn't say it like _that_, exactly."

"Then, how would you say it, Ricardo? You let this man use your body and now you will bear his child. Tell me that you have at least told him about the baby." His mother pleaded with him.

Ricardo looked down at the floor, a dust of color on his cheeks. "I haven't told him about the baby."

His mother looked faint. "I need to sit down."

Ricardo walked with her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her side to stabilize her as they walked. Carefully, he lowered her down onto the couch and rushed into the kitchen to fill a glass with ice water for her. When he handed it to her, she looked confused but thankful, and hurriedly swallowed all of it down. And then, with a soft sigh, she leaned back and closed her eyes. For the first time, Ricardo realized how truly tired his mother looked.

After a moment, his mother patted the open couch cushion beside her. Hesitantly, Ricardo sat down beside her and watched as she turned to face him. She reached out and, hesitating a moment, allowed her chocolate brown eyes to flicker up and ask for permission. He nodded and she put a hand on his stomach. She felt around, allowing her hand to smooth over the baby bump. The baby kicked and her eyes widened in surprise, before she chuckled.

"It's a little girl?" She asked, but it wasn't really a question. It was more of a statement.

"Yes." Ricardo nodded. "And, I have a confession to make, Momma. But you have to promise me that you won't be mad at me. Can you promise that?"

His mother nodded. She reached up with her free hand and smoothed a hand over his hair, which was free of all of the gel that normally held it back. "I could never be mad at you, my sweet, sweet boy."

"It's Alberto's baby." Ricardo confessed softly.

"W-What?" His mother stuttered out, before all of the color drained from her face and she collapsed.

"Momma? Momma?" Ricardo fell to his knees and caught her before she hit the ground. He studied her carefully, ashamed at the fact that his words had shocked her so terribly. "At least she's not mad at me…"


	10. Love

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

After the third day without Ricardo, or any word from Ricardo whatsoever, Alberto started to worry. No, Alberto Del Rio did not worry about anyone other than himself. Worry wasn't the word that he wanted to use to define this uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Tension, maybe? No, that didn't fit either. So, then, what could it be? And then it struck him like a ton of bricks. Loneliness. Alberto Del Rio… was lonely.

This revelation did not make sense to Alberto. After all, he was a Mexican aristocrat from a world-famous family that literally had money to burn. If he wanted to, he could have any number of women fill his bed. Or, if he truly desired, he could fly his fiancé in and have her travel with him. But he didn't want to. No. As it turned out, the only 'woman' he wanted in his bed was Ricardo. The very idea disturbed him. He _wasn't_ gay.

But the more he dwelled on it, the more he realized the fact that he _only_ cared about Ricardo. It wasn't like he was attracted to an entire bevy of men. Just Ricardo. But, in a way, that made it ten times worse. Ricardo was the help, his personal servant hired by his father to do with as he pleased. He was no more than a toy, with fake emotions to boot. He would feel what he was paid to feel. That was the way that it went.

On a whim, Alberto walked over and opened his suitcase. It was the suitcase that he used to carry all of his punishment equipment for when Ricardo stepped out of line, which, Alberto realized, had been an unfortunate reoccurrence lately. He unzipped the suitcase and looked inside. Immediately, he was overcome with horror. The instruments of painful pleasure were coated in a crust of Ricardo's blood. He had _hurt_ Ricardo.

"Idiota." He hissed underneath his breath, as well as a few other choice names for the servant. "Why did you not tell me that I had hurt you? Are you that afraid of me?"

Immediately, Alberto knew the answer. Yes, Ricardo was afraid of Alberto. Terrified even. And it wasn't really fair. Alberto never tried to have Ricardo be fearful of him, only to have him respect him. But it didn't help that he would use physical means to get his point across that he was not satisfied. Take the incident with Sheamus and the Ferrari, for example. Did he _need_ to shove Ricardo like that? No. But he did it anyway.

"Why do you let me do this to you, Ricardo? Why do you let me hurt you?" Alberto threw the instruments down and rushed back over to the bed, where he collapsed with his face toward the ceiling. He needed to think.

Did Ricardo feel that it was his duty to take all of the punishment that Alberto doled out onto him, even if it hurt him in the end? To be totally honest, Alberto never meant to hurt Ricardo. It was purely an accident that he made him bleed. Or, at least, that was what he told himself. Deep down, he knew that there was a little part of him that had always loved Ricardo, and that part of him _wanted_ to hurt Ricardo so that he could hurt _himself_.

Alberto's father had never been a man who understood love. If Alberto were to tell him that he loved Ricardo and wanted to start a life with him, he would be disowned so fast that it would make his head spin. That was why Alberto treated Ricardo the way that he did. He used him as a toy and had a lovely little fiancé on the side. When they were married, she would have the appropriate number of children and then become utterly useless to him.

Ricardo's cries of pain made his ears bleed. Why had he been deaf to them until now? "Lo siento, Ricardo. This is all my fault. But I will make it better. On the honor of the Del Rio family, I will fix this."

* * *

It was after he made that decision that he attended his first anger management course. It was difficult for him to be around so many people of lower social class, 'peasants' as he liked to call them, but it was all for Ricardo. That was the mantra that went through his head as he returned week after week for the first month. Not once did he hear from Ricardo, not that he expected to. He knew that Ricardo had left and, quite possibly, would never come back.

And even if it was hard to understand that Ricardo had moved on with his life, Alberto would not dwell on it. He would not silently curse Ricardo's decision to move back to Mexico. He would not hate him for leaving him all on his own. That was what his anger management class had taught him. There was nobody to blame but himself. He was the one who had created this mess, and now, he needed to find a way out of it.

That was when his fiancé called. _"Alberto! You haven't called me in three days! The wedding is in a week and there is still so much that we need to do and -,"_

Alberto cut her off. "There isn't going to be a wedding. I'm calling it off." Alberto told her. "I cannot marry you, not when I only have room in my heart for one man."

_"A man? Alberto, that's sick! I'll tell your father and he'll disown you. You'll be broke!"_

Alberto shook his head. "If my father truly cares about me, then he'll accept me the way that I am. And as for the money, well, I don't need ten foreign cars that I'll only drive once or twice, do I?"

_"What happened you, Alberto? You sound… different."_

"I am different." Alberto confirmed "I'm in love."


	11. The Phone Call

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

It was hard on SmackDown. Alberto was at his best when Ricardo was on the sidelines, because he knew that he had someone to strive for, someone to impress. Alberto didn't connect with the fans. Well, he didn't _know_ whether or not he connected with the fans, because he had never really tried. Whenever he came out to do a promo, it was all he could do to not call one (if not all of them) peasants and tell them the many reasons why they were beneath him.

But still, he came out with a victory over Randy Orton to become the new Number One Contender to Sheamus' title. When the crowd booed him, he felt a slow smirk start to form. Fresh off of his victory, he rolled out and slowly made his way up the ramp. It was only after he was out of the eye of the public that he realized the full impact of his situation. Ricardo wasn't there to celebrate with him. It was a hollow victory.

Alberto stumbled into his locker room and locked the door behind him. He looked at the colorful array of bruises that discolored his skin. He was in an unbelievable amount of pain. How could he describe it? It was a pain that he had never experienced before. A pain in his body, but also a pain inside of his heart. Ricardo had taken a knife and cut into him when he left and Alberto didn't know how to heal it on his own…

Alberto took out his phone. It had been three days since he had last talked to Ricardo and he really, really needed to lift these words off of his chest. It felt like there was a heavy burden on his shoulders. "Ricardo?"

There was some noise in the distance. Ricardo yawned into the phone and Alberto cursed when he remembered the time difference between there and Mexico. _"Hello? Who is this?"_

"It's Alberto." Alberto answered. He heard Ricardo curse fluently in the distance.

_"Lo siento, El Patron. Wait, you fired me, you're not my boss anymore. I'm rambling, aren't I? Lo siento, Alberto."_ Ricardo finished finally.

"Its fine, Ricardo. Don't worry about it." Alberto assured him. An awkward silence followed and both were at a loss for words. Finally, Alberto continued. "So, um, how are you?"

_"I'm fine. You shouldn't be worried about me. I saw that you won your match on SmackDown to become the new Number One Contender. You should be worried about Sheamus."_ Ricardo told him.

Alberto shook it off. "It is my destiny to become World Champion. I do not have to worry myself over a peasant like Sheamus." Alberto rolled his eyes, as if this were obvious.

_"Lo siento, Alberto. I should not have doubted you."_ Ricardo said.

"Its fine, Ricardo. Do me a favor and stop apologizing all the time, okay?" Alberto said.

_"Okay."_ An awkward silence followed. _"Listen, Alberto, I have to go. I'm right in the middle of something extremely important and I can't mess it up."_

"Okay, well -,"

Alberto was cut off when the phone call ended abruptly. It took him a minute to realize that his announcer, no, his _former_ announcer, had actually hung up on him. He had half a mind to call him back just to curse him out and then to be the one to hang up on him. But then, he took a minute to think about the situation rationally. First of all, that would be incredibly rude of him to do that. And second, who said that Ricardo would actually answer?

Slowly, Alberto started to undress from his match and change into his civilian clothes. He tucked all of his stuff into his shoulder bag and started the lonely walk out to his car. Unfortunately, that walk was disturbed by an unwanted encounter with The Viper, Randy Orton. The Apex Predator narrowed his eyes at Alberto in a scowl that would have sent him six feet under. Alberto didn't back down, so Randy scowled harder.

"Perro," Alberto hissed at him. He may not be able to cuss out Ricardo, but he had no qualms about cussing out Randy. He needed to blow off some steam. "What the hell do you want?"

"What do _I_ want? Excuse me, but I believe that _you_ were the one who ran into _me_." Randy bit back just as fiercely. He still cradled his arm from the vicious cross-arm breaker that Alberto had locked in not an hour before.

"Well, maybe if you didn't stand in the middle of the damn doorway, _idiota_, we wouldn't need to have this discussion. Now, if you would be so kind as to move out of my way…" Alberto trailed off.

Randy took hold of his shoulder and slammed it into the nearby wall, glaring at him with all of the force that he could muster. "Did you just call me an idiot?"

"Si." Alberto hissed. "I'm surprised that you took more offense to that then dog, but then, I shouldn't be surprised. You, peasant, are a unique combination of both!"

Randy punched his cheek so hard that he saw stars. "You want to run that comment by me again?"

"Gladly." Alberto choked on his words. He wiped the blood from his mouth on the back of his hand. "Or, rather, should I add 'dunce' to the list as well?"

This time, Randy took hold of Alberto's hair and slammed his head back into the wall. "Shut your fucking trap!"

"Make me." Alberto smirked. "Go ahead and show the world how much of an uncivilized freak you really are."

That was the last straw. Randy tackled him down and knocked the wind out of him, causing Alberto to cough viciously while Randy continued his assault. Each punch was calculated to cause as much pain as possible, but without having Randy exert a lot of energy. Randy continued his assault until two muscular arms wrapped around his stomach and pulled him off of Alberto, and even then, Randy kicked at the Mexican aristocrat until all of the fight left his body.

John looked back and forth between Alberto and his boyfriend, before he finally settled on Randy. "Randy, what is the meaning of this? If Booker T had been the one to pull you off, you could have been suspended."

Randy turned away indignantly, but there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes that Alberto had not seen before. It made him feel bad and he silently cursed his anger management classes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"C'mon, then. Let's head back to the hotel room before another fight breaks out." John ushered his boyfriend down the hall, before he hesitantly turned back to Alberto. "You okay, Alberto?"

"I'm fine. I don't need a peasant to worry about me." Alberto spat.

"Fine." John raised his hands in innocence. "The next time Randy beats you to a bloody pulp; I'll just stand by and watch. Since you don't need a _peasant_ to worry about you and all that."

"Good." Alberto hissed. He watched as John and Randy walked away, before the pain finally overwhelmed him and he fell back. "Fuck, that peasant bastard actually knows how to pack a punch…"

* * *

Ricardo rolled around in bed, unable to make himself comfortable. He couldn't believe that he had hung up on Alberto. And, to make it even worse, he didn't _want_ to call him back. What kind of servant was he? What if Alberto was in trouble? Oh, the very idea of it settled like a lead balloon in his stomach. Alberto could be in trouble and he couldn't care less. Ricardo was an awful, horrible man.

Finally, he settled down on his back. He drew the blankets up to his chin and focused his eyes on the window. When they were little and Ricardo was more of a personal servant than the announcer/chauffer/guardian that he had grown into, Alberto used to tell him that he would always confide in the stars. The stars were always there, they would never vanish. And they wouldn't judge him, not like his father did.

After a few minutes, Ricardo tossed the blankets off of his body and walked out toward his balcony. He was surrounded by several different plants and flowers. It was all very beautiful. But that wasn't what Ricardo's main concern was. Slowly, methodically, he turned his head toward the heavens and admired the vast arrays of stars and constellations in the black velvet sky. He felt what Alberto had felt. He felt like he could confide in them.

"I don't know… I don't know if stars can really hear, but can they listen? I have a rather odd situation and I don't know what to do. I'm pregnant and I know that I want to keep the baby, but do I tell the baby's father? Will he even want her?" Ricardo asked.

He wasn't surprised when he didn't receive an answer.


	12. And Baby Makes Three

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Alberto dialed Ricardo's number. He was more conscious of the time difference this time and made sure that it was late in the afternoon when he called. "Ricardo? Are you there?"

Ricardo sighed. _"Yes, I'm here. What do you want, Alberto? You've been more talkative ever since you fired me. I'm not sure whether I like it or not."_

"Lo siento, Ricardo. If it would make you feel better, I did not fire you because of your work ethic. You were an excellent announcer and I'm sorry to have had to fire you." Alberto said.

"_Then, why did you fire me?"_ Ricardo asked softly. _"Wait, I don't want to know. I don't need to know. I'm happier now than I have been over the last several years that I have been your announcer."_

"Do you really mean that?" Alberto asked, shocked. He couldn't believe what Ricardo had said.

Ricardo swallowed hard, before he answered. _"Yes. I am living a much better life now. And I've finally found someone that makes me happy."_

"Really?" Alberto's eyes widened and he felt a sick feeling twist in his stomach.

"_Yes. Now, if you don't mind, I'm leaving." _The call ended abruptly and Alberto was left alone.

Alberto felt tears bubble in his eyes as he threw his phone across the room. It bounced off of the second twin bed in the corner and fell on the floor. The battery cover broke off and flew across the room. And then, he stumbled over to his bed and crashed down onto it face-first. His entire body ached from the beat-down that he had taken at the hands of Randy Orton. He was about ready to initiate another altercation with Randy.

Finally, Alberto rolled onto his back and took the hotel phone off of the hook. He dialed the number for room service and ordered some red wine. Maybe if he was totally hammered, he wouldn't have to worry about the fact that Ricardo had found someone else to love him. He was too late. Really, it was his own fault. He was the one who had treated Ricardo so terribly. There was nobody he could blame but himself.

When the red wine arrived, he thanked the woman who had brought it to his room and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He then poured himself a glass and lay back onto his bed. Turning on his stories, he downed the glass in one burning swallow and let his hand fall off to the side. With his eyes blearily focused on the ceiling, he let the alcohol slowly wash all of the memories away.

But before that could happen, there was a knock on the door. "Damn it! Idiota, what do you want? Do you not know what time it is?" Alberto hissed at whoever was on the other side of the door.

"It's John. Can I come in?" John asked. "And if you say no, I'll just get a key from the receptionist downstairs. I think that it would benefit all of us if you just open the door."

Alberto knew that he was totally serious. He rolled his eyes as he slid out of bed, poured himself another glass of wine, and wandered over to the door. Well, he _stumbled_ over to the door. Maybe he had had a little more to drink than he thought that he had. Oh well. Once he arrived at the door, he opened it and came face-to-face with John Cena. The Cenation Hero looked at him uneasily.

"Man, you look like a train ran over you." Cena whistled, before he shook his head. "Can I come in? Thank you." John didn't wait for an answer, he just invited himself in.

"Yes, of course you can come in Cena. My hotel room is your hotel room, after all." Alberto rolled his eyes. "Perro." He hissed underneath his breath.

"I came here to ask why you decided to pick a fight with my boyfriend. You beat him fair and square. You're the new Number One Contender, which is exactly what you wanted. Why would you want to piss him off?"

"I don't believe that that is any of your business." Alberto slurred.

John crossed his arms over his chest. "I think it is. He is my boyfriend, after all."

"And what, he's so weak that he can't come and get the answers he wants on his own?"

John frowned. "He's not weak at all, thank you very much. He's a better man that you will ever be. He, unlike you, understands the importance of love. He doesn't push away those that are important to him because of social status."

"You don't know anything about this at all. Don't pretend like you do." Alberto hissed at him. "Now, if you would kindly escort yourself out of my hotel room…"

John narrowed his eyes at him and continued, "Just so you know, Randy is in bed, in so much pain that he can barely move his arm. That's your fault. And maybe, if you showed a little bit of remorse about it, I wouldn't want to bash your face in. No wonder Ricardo didn't tell you."

Alberto's eyes widened. "No wonder he didn't tell me about _what_?"

John shook his head. He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. It took a lot of restraint for him to not race over and tackle Alberto and beat his face in. When Randy had told him about what Alberto had said about him, it had sickened him. Why would he be so rude? And then he remembered that Alberto was always rude and that this was not unusual.

Alberto looked at John uncertainly. He wanted to know what John knew about Ricardo, since it was obvious that Ricardo wouldn't say it to him. Alberto finished off the rest of his wine and slammed the glass down onto the table. He felt his stomach twist and his vision wavered, but he steeled himself and continued to stare John down. Finally, John turned to him and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You couldn't see that he was pregnant? He tried so hard to hold it, but it was so difficult. He couldn't hide it forever, but when he wanted to tell you, you became abusive to him." John said.

Alberto choked. "He's… _pregnant_?"

"Yeah." John nodded. "And if you lose him now, you can only blame yourself. I've done my part." And with that, John stormed out of the room and slammed the door closed behind him.


	13. Brogue Kick

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Of course, what Ricardo had told him was absolutely untrue. There wasn't anyone new in Ricardo's life. He wasn't over the loss of Alberto. Ricardo shook his head. He couldn't believe that he had lied like that to Alberto. He knew that he needed to talk to him, to confront him face-to-face. Now, he was ready to tell him about the baby. And if he didn't want her, then Ricardo would raise her on his own. That was the way that it was.

* * *

Ricardo arrived in the arena in the midst of a brutal battle between Sheamus and Alberto Del Rio. Sheamus had just finished a match with Jack Swagger, which had only been made after Phil Brooks walked out on their Champion vs. Champion match. It was extremely rude of him, but it had made Sheamus victorious in his match. Alberto had attacked him afterword, which had led to this confrontation.

Ricardo didn't even know what made him do it. His love for his baby or the love for his boss, the man who didn't care about him at all. He may only have one chance at having this baby. She was absolutely beautiful, even if he hadn't seen her yet, and he couldn't afford her to lose her. But still, he moved closer to the commotion. All of the possible outcomes went in and out of his head at a mile a minute. Finally, he made his decision.

"Move out of the way!" He exclaimed loudly. This attracted the attention of his former boss, Alberto Del Rio, who barely had time to react before Ricardo shoved him out of the way and was kicked forcefully in the head.

"Ricardo!" Alberto was forced to watch as his former announcer was knocked out cold. "Es idiota! How could you do this? You're not in any condition to be anywhere near the ring!" Alberto exclaimed.

Ricardo didn't answer. He just stared at Alberto lifelessly, his eyes distant and blank.

"Ricardo! Ricardo, answer me! Please, just turn your head and look at me. C'mon, Ricardo!" Alberto was desperate now, as it had been several minutes and he still hadn't received an answer.

The trainer and the medical officials came out to assist him in Ricardo's transport to the Trainer's Room. "Alberto, you have to let us take him."

Alberto narrowed his eyes at the man. "Peasant! Take your filthy hands off of the mother of my child!"

The trainer looked at him as if he had obtained a third head. "What?"

"You obviously don't understand the enormity of the situation, _peasant_. Ricardo is pregnant. I do not know how many months, but the longer that he is unconscious, the worse it will be for the baby." Alberto hissed.

The trainer nodded sheepishly and carefully helped the other medical officials to load Ricardo onto a stretcher outside of the ring. Alberto slid out of the ring and followed closely behind. He wouldn't let these peasants manhandle his future husband and his unborn baby. He couldn't believe that he had been so foolish to allow Sheamus to hurt him in the first place. It was a mistake that he would never forgive himself for.

He followed the trainer and the other medical officials into the Trainer's Room, before the door was closed and locked behind them. Immediately, Ricardo was loaded onto the examination bed and his clothes were slowly shed so that the medical officials could see the full extent of the damage. From the way that he had fallen, his back and the area just underneath his stomach was heavily bruised. Also, he had a nice bruise on the side of his face.

Slowly, Ricardo started to come too. He looked around the room with bleary eyes. There was a look of foggy disorientation in his eyes and it broke Alberto to see his announcer look like that. Yes, his announcer. As soon as Ricardo was able, and no sooner than that, he would return to his previous job as Alberto's announcer. That was where he belonged. Right at Alberto's side. Forever and always.

"What about the child?" Alberto asked the female who seemed to be wandering back and forth around the room. "Has he suffered a miscarriage? I need to know!"

The woman shook her head. "I cannot say decisively. From the bruising around his stomach, he should have lost the baby. However, there is no blood. He will need to be checked out by his doctor to make sure."

"Does he have a concussion?" Alberto continued to ask questions.

The woman nodded. "He has a concussion and multiple bulging disks in his neck."

"How can that be repaired?" Alberto asked.

The woman scribbled down a few notes. "He will need to take a lot of physical therapy. However, it is possible that the disks will pop back into place and he will make a full recovery."

Alberto took Ricardo's hand and stared at him. Ricardo stared back silently. He couldn't talk; it looked like he was still in shock. Alberto reached forward and smoothed the hair out of Ricardo's face. Slowly, he watched as Ricardo blinked and breathed – in and out, in and out. What seemed like a normal, everyday occurrence, was actually the most beautiful thing that Alberto had ever seen. It kept him sane. It was the _only_ thing keeping him sane.

"Lo siento, mi amigo. Lo siento, mi amour. It will all be okay soon." Alberto assured him. "We will head to the hospital and there, you will be checked out. I will make sure that you have nothing but the best care."

Ricardo just continued to stare at him.

"And no matter what you think, I want to have this baby. This baby is a piece of you and a piece of me, and it shall be that way forever. She shall be our little Clarabelle." Alberto assured him.

Ricardo, comforted by this, fell into a peaceful sleep.


	14. Perfect

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Alberto could finally breathe when he heard the news that the baby had survived and was totally healthy.

He strived to take care of Ricardo the best that he could. After a house show, he would always take Ricardo out to a fancy restaurant (and not take the cost of his food out of his check). When his neck hurt, he would rub it for him. He even went so far as to book a room with a Queen-sized bed and a Twin-sized bed so that Ricardo could have more room to stretch out. Life was so different now that Alberto knew about the baby. However, Ricardo wondered…

Ricardo knew his boss more than any other superstar behind that curtain did. Alberto was a complex man. This worried Ricardo. It worried him because he didn't know if Alberto really wanted him for _him_, or if he only wanted him because of the baby in his stomach. Maybe that was all that he was to Alberto. He was a vessel that would eventually deliver him a child. A child that would be an heir to the Del Rio name. That was all that Alberto wanted.

"What would you like for breakfast, mi amore?" Alberto asked as he led Ricardo down the line at the breakfast buffet the next day. "There is bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, blueberries, oranges, and much more."

Ricardo looked it all over like he was a starved man in the desert, but he didn't want to overfill himself. "Two sausages, two pancakes, and some blueberries, por favor, El Patron."

Alberto looked at him seriously. "What did we talk about, Ricardo? What did I ask you to call me?"

Ricardo blinked dumbly, before he looked down, ashamed. "Lo siento, Alberto."

"Very well. Your minor fumble has been forgiven for now." Was that a _smile_ on Alberto's face?

Alberto fixed them both a plate of food, before he walked over to a secluded table and set the food down, before he helped Ricardo to lower himself into the chair. Ricardo flushed, embarrassed. He really didn't want to think about how this looked. He wasn't an invalid. He could still sit down! But Alberto brushed off his cries and went back to retrieve two drinks for them. He set Ricardo's in front of him and urged him to eat.

Once Alberto actually sat down, Ricardo took a moment to study his plate. Now, the food didn't look all that appetizing. That had happened a lot in the recent stages of his pregnancy. He had been extremely hungry at first, but now he could barely keep food down. When he told that to the doctor at the hospital, she had told him that it was totally normal and to not worry about it unless it continued for several weeks.

"So, Ricardo…" Alberto seemed as if he were at a loss for words, which was a first in all of the time that the two had known each other. "When did you… you know… find out about the baby?"

Ricardo looked down. He didn't want to lie to his boss, but he also didn't want Alberto to know that he had lied to him for so much time. "Since before the last pay-per-view."

Alberto almost choked on his drink. "Since before the last pay-per-view?!" He screeched.

A few unwanted eyes fluttered over to their table, but Alberto scowled at them and they hurriedly turned away. "Yes. There was just so much commotion and I didn't know how to tell you and… lo siento, Alberto. Lo siento."

Unintentionally, Ricardo flinched away. "Why are you flinching? Do you think that I'm going to hit you?"

Ricardo looked at him hesitantly. "Do you want the honest answer?"

"I always want for you to feel comfortable enough to be honest with me." Alberto confessed.

"Yes." Ricardo said lowly. "I was afraid that you were about to hit me."

Suddenly, Alberto reached out and took Ricardo by the chin. He turned Ricardo's head so that the announcer would look him in the eye. "I promise you this, Ricardo. I will never hurt you again. Physically _or_ emotionally. Juro."

Ricardo wanted to believe him, he honestly did. However, there was just so much evidence behind the fact that Alberto just couldn't keep his promises. To name a few examples: he promised to be World Heavyweight Champion by now, he promised to usher in a new era in the WWE, he promised to not treat Ricardo any differently now that he knew about the baby… Alberto's word wasn't dependable. Ricardo knew that firsthand.

"Come, Ricardo." Alberto saw that Ricardo had finished his food and threw it out for him. "We must call mi padre and tell him the news about the baby."

"Su padre? Pero… Que sabe de nosotros?" Once more, their conversation had attracted unwanted attention. Ricardo switched to his native tongue to keep unwanted listeners shut out.

"No, él no sabe nada de nosotros. Pero él les encantará el bebé de todos modos." Alberto assured him.

Ricardo looked at him uncertainly. "If you're sure…"

* * *

The call to Alberto's father went about as well as could be expected. It _was_ true that the old man had wanted a grandchild from his only son for many years now. However, that child had to meet certain expectations. For one, Alberto had to be married _before_ the child was born. Otherwise, the child would be illegitimate and would be written out of Alberto's father's will. It was tradition in the family and couldn't be overruled.

Another obstacle that had to be faced was the pressure put on Alberto's face over the chance that the baby wouldn't be male. If the child wasn't male, then it couldn't carry on the Del Rio name and would therefore be considered totally useless to their legacy. Ricardo didn't tell Alberto that it had already been confirmed that the baby was a girl, but he had a sick-to-his-stomach feeling that Alberto already knew.

However, the last little bit was the trickiest of them all. Alberto's father could overlook a female child, but he couldn't overlook the fact that the child would be born of a man, and to add to that, the help. The mixed bloodline would leave the child with muddied blood and, effectively, she (or he) would not be considered an heir. However, if Alberto left Ricardo and came back with a _woman_ of high social class… well, that was an entirely different story.

Ricardo could tell that there was more that Alberto didn't tell him, but he knew better than to push. He was back with Alberto and he had his job, that was all that he could ask for at the moment. So, as he started to pack his boss's stuff for SmackDown, he made sure that each was carefully folded and smoothed to avoid any wrinkles. Every day of the week, he wanted to do the best that he could to ensure that Alberto was safe and healthy.

"Are you almost ready to hit the road, Ricardo?" Alberto looked a little bit _too_ excited to have that conference with Booker T. Ricardo shook his head carefully, so as not to disturb the brace.

"Yes, Alberto. I have all of your luggage packed and mine as well. So, I just have to carry it downstairs to the car and then we will be off." Ricardo said, satisfied with the work that he had done.

Alberto shook his head. "No, Ricardo. I am able to carry my own luggage, but gracias."

Ricardo looked at him, confused. "Are you sure?"

"When is Alberto Del Rio ever _not_ sure of himself?" Alberto asked.

Ricardo chose not to answer.

* * *

Well, at the end of the night, Alberto had what he wanted. It was the best lead-up to an engagement that he could ever ask for. All that would make it better would be the World Heavyweight Title around his waist. Yes, Ricardo would be impressed. Alberto was sure that he would be. And rightfully so. Alberto deserved to have that belt around his waist, not that dog, Sheamus – the Celtic Warrior and Irish Brawler.

The Brogue Kick had been banned. Temporarily, of course. Just long enough for Alberto Del Rio to steal a win at Night of Champions. It would be like taking candy from a baby. But, of course, his own welfare had not been in mind when he had petitioned Booker T to ban the kick. He had been worried about his helpless announcer, who could now face permanent disability because of this injury.

Alberto looked at the little black velvet box that he had in his hand. He had purchased the ring a little under a week ago. It was perfect for Ricardo and Alberto knew that full well. He studied it for several minutes, before he tucked it back into his pocket. That wondrous occasion would have to wait until he had that title belt around his waist. And then, they would have _two_ occasions to celebrate.

Alberto could almost envision it now. "Perfect."


	15. Coming to Blows

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Alberto was absolutely furious. He couldn't believe that Booker T had reinstituted Sheamus' finisher.

Ricardo, ever the dutiful assistant, rushed into the bathroom and immediately started to fill the bathtub with hot water and soothing herbs to try and take the ache in his neck away before it actually had a chance to form. Knowing better than to mention Alberto's loss to Sheamus, he made sure that his mouth remained shut as he hurried to fulfill his task. And if he didn't meet Alberto's eyes, well…

Ricardo assisted Alberto in the process of undressing, before he threw the clothes into the suitcase and carefully led Alberto over to the bathtub. Once he was lowered down into the water, Alberto tilted his head back and closed his chocolate brown eyes. Never one to hesitate where his work was involved, Ricardo took a washcloth and started to scrub all of the blood and sweat off of Alberto's worn, calloused skin.

He felt a sharp kick in the stomach. He took a breath and tried to calm himself, because he didn't need to worry about the baby _and_ Alberto at the same time. Alberto was currently the one who was injured. He was the one who had been hit in the head with a Brogue Kick (at least, he was the one who had been hit more recently). Ricardo was worried about Alberto, both physically and mentally. He wasn't sure how this would affect Alberto's confidence.

"How is the baby, Ricardo?" Alberto turned to him and looked at him with half-lidded eyes. Ricardo was touched that, even with the amount of pain that Alberto was in, he was still worried about Ricardo.

"The baby is fine, Alberto. You shouldn't be worried about her. You need to worry about yourself." Ricardo told him. He re-wet the washcloth and rubbed it over Alberto's chest.

Alberto shook his head, but then he flinched when it caused the pain in his neck to flare. "No. I don't understand how you think that I can worry about myself when the unborn child is involved."

"Do you… Do you really care about her?" Ricardo asked hesitantly. He closed his eyes, almost afraid that he would be hit for his foolish question.

Alberto's eyes widened. "Of course I care about her! Why wouldn't I?"

"Sometimes, I think that the only reason you want me around is for the baby." Ricardo confessed.

Alberto was silent for a minute and Ricardo was afraid. "How could you ever think about that?"

Ricardo looked down, embarrassed by his insecurities. He knew that it was a little foolish to think like that, but Alberto had never really shown much interest in him. The only time when he had shown interest in him was when he was abusing him. Ricardo didn't really understand where this sudden change of heart had come from. And, to be totally honest, it unnerved him. He didn't want to think about how Alberto could turn on him in the blink of an eye.

Slowly, Alberto turned over in the water and came to face Ricardo. And then, all at once, he started to strip Ricardo out of what little clothes that he still had on. Ricardo blinked, dumbfounded by this entire idea. Finally, Alberto took Ricardo by the hand and led him into the bathtub so that he sat across from Alberto. His eyes fell onto the small swell of Ricardo's stomach and suddenly, a wave of uncertainty claimed him.

"You know, you look absolutely beautiful like that. Not that you didn't look beautiful before, but…" Alberto trailed off. "Mi Amore, I love you. And I love that baby. I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you."

Ricardo shook his head. "But what about…" here, he trailed off.

"What about what, Ricardo?" Alberto asked.

"What about your fiancée? I thought you were so in love with her. You were so in love with her that you would fire me for her." Ricardo told him.

Alberto shook his head. "I couldn't stand to be with her. She forced you out of my life and I realized that I couldn't be without you. I was picking fights with Randy – picking fights and losing."

"But still…" Ricardo shook his head. Alberto reached out and brushed the hair out from in front of his face. "You loved her so much, and you didn't even care about me. Why would you care about someone like me?"

"I care about you because you are the mother of my child." Alberto answered nonchalantly.

Ricardo felt his heart stop in his chest. It felt like there was a huge lump in the back of his throat, preventing him from being able to swallow. So, he hadn't been overdramatic when he had worried that Alberto only wanted him for the baby. In that one sentence, whether he realized it or not, he had made his intentions abundantly clear. All he cared about was that baby. For all he cared, Ricardo could rot in hell.

Tears slowly started to streak down Ricardo's face as he came to terms with this realization. Alberto didn't love him. How could he ever think that he would (or could, for that matter)? Ricardo was the help and that was all that he could ever be to Alberto. However, it sickened him that he would think like that. His hands came to rest on his stomach defensively, but it seemed like Alberto misunderstood. Slowly, he started to wash Ricardo off.

The announcer had never felt more alone.

* * *

Once again, after the outcome of Raw, Ricardo was forced to play mediator between Alberto and the new Raw GM, AJ Lee. From the look in Ricardo's eyes, he was about to massacre the tiny brunette and not even Ricardo's presence could stop him. Ricardo tried his best to remain focused as he stood between them, bearing every harsh curse for AJ and enduring the tiny brunette's somewhat demonic smile.

Until, finally, the entire situation came to a head. Alberto blew up and suddenly, the object of his fury wasn't AJ, but Ricardo. He started to curse at the smaller man, accusing him of taking AJ's side instead of his own. He screamed and cursed, every damnable word that he knew in both English and Spanish pouring out of his mouth. He was frustrated and he was totally blind to his actions, but Ricardo wasn't.

But then, in a blind fury that rivaled any frustration that he had felt before, he reached out and slapped Ricardo across the face. "Perro! You will listen and _respond_ when I talk to you."

Ricardo was silent and eerily still for a moment, before he twisted around and hit him back.


	16. Done

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Domestic Violence, Etc.

* * *

Ricardo's hand trembled when he realized what he had done. He stared at his hand as if it had betrayed him and, in a sense, it had. He had struck his boss. And his boss was none other than Alberto Del Rio – the Mexican aristocrat, the Destined One, the father of his baby. Hesitantly, his chocolate brown eyes flickered up and searched Alberto's face for any emotion that would clarify how he felt about what had just occurred. But Alberto's face was totally blank.

It looked like AJ had taken her cue and had left the two men to their own devices. An awkward silence stretched between them as Ricardo's eyes frantically flickered between his hand and the bruise on Alberto's cheek. He had _hit_ his boss. His heart sank in his chest when he remembered that Alberto had actually been the one to strike him first. But just when he felt like the worst had come, he realized that the storm hadn't even started.

"Perro!" Alberto's infamous fury flared as he screamed at Ricardo. Ricardo flinched and took a few steps back to try and create some distance between them. "Who the hell do you think that you are, to lay a hand on me?"

Fear shone in Ricardo's eyes as he took a few more steps back, until finally, his back made contact with the wall and he couldn't move anymore. "Lo siento, El Patron! I didn't mean to! I swear!"

Alberto took hold of his shoulder with such strength that Ricardo flinched and cried out softly in pain. "You didn't answer my question, Ricardo. Who the hell do you think that you are?"

Ricardo flinched and closed his eyes. Maybe, with his eyes closed, he could pretend like Alberto wasn't about to hurt him even more. "I'm nobody, El Patron. I'm nobody compared to you."

"Correct!" Alberto roared as he shoved Ricardo's shoulder into the nearest wall. "And since you are nobody, that means that your life, your job, every breath that you take… it all means nothing. Not to me. Not to anyone."

Ricardo felt tears slowly start to prick at his eyes. "Please… You're hurting me, Alberto."

"What did you just call me, perro?" Alberto shoved him a little harder and Ricardo felt sick.

"Lo siento, El Patron! Lo siento!" Ricardo squeaked out as stars stared to dance before his eyes.

And then, all of a sudden, Alberto released him and Ricardo let out a small whimper of pain. Realization shone in Alberto's eyes as he realized what had just transpired, what he had just done. All of the promises that he had made to Ricardo had been broken, all of the love that he said that he had for him was destroyed. Ricardo stood there, breathless and battered; terrified that Alberto would try and attack him. But that wasn't what hurt him the most.

Ricardo had an arm around his stomach to make sure that, if Alberto _did_ decide to attack him again, he wouldn't hurt the baby. And that was what hurt the most. Alberto had sworn to love and defend that little girl, just like he had sworn to love and defend Ricardo. It amazed him how easily that love that he had shared with Ricardo could be shattered. But then, at the same time, had there _ever_ been love between them?

"Ricardo…" Alberto trailed off as he started to come closer to his announcer.

"No!" It was Ricardo's turn to be indignant. "Don't you _dare_ come any closer! I trusted you, Alberto, and you lied to me. You said that you would never hurt me and _look_! Look at my cheek!"

Alberto didn't want to look, but Ricardo wouldn't back down. "I was just…"

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Alberto. You make them all the time. Admit it – you make excuses for everything from losing to Sheamus to beating me! Do you know why?" Ricardo hissed.

Alberto closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "No. I don't."

"Because you're a pitiful excuse for a man and a horrible excuse for a wrestler!" Ricardo vented.

Alberto's eyes snapped open at the insult and he was ready to strike, but he held himself back because that would only prove Ricardo to be right. "I'll ask you again. Who the hell do you think that you are?"

"I think that I'm a victim of assault and battery that should have confessed to it months ago. When I turned you in the first time, I should have filed a report and put you behind bars. That's _exactly_ where you belong."

Alberto's eyes widened and color stained his dark cheeks. He clenched his fists at his sides, unsure about what to do that wouldn't involve a physical confrontation. "Only animals belong in cages."

Ricardo steeled himself and hissed, "You _are_ an animal, Alberto."

Ricardo shook his head and pushed himself off of the wall. He shoved Alberto out of his way and Alberto let him. Alberto was honestly at a loss for how to handle this. He couldn't believe that Ricardo could think that he was an animal. After all that he had done for Ricardo, this was how he repaid him? Frustration rose within him, but he pushed it down. There was a time and a place for that.

"Ricardo…" Alberto trailed off when Ricardo shot him a look.

"No. I'm done with this. I'm done with you." Ricardo screamed at him. "You had your chance and you blew it. Now? Go rot in hell, Alberto. I'm done."


	17. Broken

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Alberto's career had taken a drastic turn in a matter of hours. It had only been twenty-four hours since Ricardo had walked out of his life, and from that moment, he couldn't tell up from down. Honestly, he didn't know what had snapped inside of him to make him act that way toward Ricardo. He loved Ricardo, he did. But he was also afraid. He was afraid that Ricardo would realize that he deserved so much better and he needed to show Ricardo that.

Alberto wasn't a well-mannered man. He was used to having his every want and need attended to. Never before had he actually felt the need to care about someone else and, to be honest, he wasn't sure that he knew how. But that wasn't an excuse for the fact that he had put his hands on Ricardo. He had physically harmed him; the bruise on his face was evidence to that. All of the vows that he had made him had been broken. How could he fix that?

On the next SmackDown, he had found out from Booker T that he had been taken off of the list of next-in line Number One Contenders to the World Heavyweight Title. Instead, he would have to work to earn that title shot back. That was another thing that Alberto had never had to do before. He had never needed to work to earn his money, to earn his way into the big-leagues. Because of his father, he was already there. He had already earned it.

"Hey there, fella." Sheamus cornered him and tossed an arm around his shoulders. Alberto tried not to look at him disdainfully. "Tough break back there with Booker T. I was _so_ sure you would get another shot, too."

"There's no need to be a smart-aleck, peasant. We both know that you're _thankful_ that I don't have another chance to take that title from you, because I would win." Alberto hissed at him, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Isn't that what you said the last… how many times was it now? Two? Three?" Sheamus pretended to think.

Alberto shoved him off. "I don't have time for this, perro. Go crawl underneath the bar that you came from."

Sheamus only chuckled, not even dismayed by the cruel insult. "Bertie, Bertie. That's the best you got?"

Alberto frowned. Why couldn't this… evil Ronald McDonald figure out that he wasn't in the mood? "I don't have time for this, Sheamus. Now, if you would kindly…"

But then, Sheamus' smile fell and a look of total seriousness clouded his metallic eyes. Alberto swallowed hard, almost afraid. "No, Alberto. We need to talk. Now."

Sheamus closed his hand around Alberto's shoulder and shoved him into the nearby wall. Alberto winced and closed his eyes. His back and neck were still on fire from that vicious Brogue Kick that he had endured a few days before. However, when he realized that he was showing someone of lower social status his weakness, he popped his eyes open and shoved Sheamus off. He wouldn't be pushed around by the Irish Brute.

Sheamus seemed impressed by the fact that Alberto could push off of the wall with so much force. However, that didn't stop him from raising his hand and punching Alberto in the cheek. Immediately, his mouth was filled with the metallic bite of coppery blood and he winced. Rubbing his cheek roughly, he went to strike Sheamus back. But Sheamus was faster. He moved out of the way, landed another hit, and watched as he doubled over in pain.

"You know, Alberto, I used to think that you were an awful son of a bitch. However, then I found out that you _hit_ Ricardo. Ricardo, who, in case you didn't remember, was pregnant with your baby. You know what that means?"

Alberto tried to wiggle out of Sheamus' hold, but the red-haired man was stronger than he was. "No. I don't. And you know what? It's none of your fucking business anyway. Perro." Alberto spit in his face.

Sheamus wiped the saliva off of his face with a look of disgust. And then, not even trying to hold back, he kneed Alberto in the stomach repeatedly. "It makes you lower than the filth that the pigs bathe in. You're less than shit."

"How dare you? Do you realize who I am?" Alberto screamed at him.

Sheamus smirked darkly. "Yes. I realize who you are. I know _exactly_ who you are."

"And you still think that you can talk to me like that?" Alberto hissed.

Sheamus nodded bluntly. "You're nothing more than an egocentric asshole who thinks that he has the right to put his hands on someone else because his Daddy told him that he's better than everyone else. Guess what, Bertie?"

Alberto narrowed his eyes at Sheamus, but didn't comment.

Sheamus only shook his head. He wasn't surprised about the fact that Alberto didn't answer him. "You're not."

And then, with one last fierce shove, he sent Alberto hurdling to the ground. Alberto didn't even try to fight him. The words sank low into his bones and made his entire body feel heavy. His heart started to slow until the point where he wasn't sure if it was beating at all. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the fact that his body was battered and bruised. Not the fact that he had lost his title shot. Nothing. Because Sheamus was right. He wasn't the best. He's the worst.

* * *

"Ricardo?" John was the one who first noticed the announcer, who was huddled on the floor with his head in his hands. Ricardo jumped at the sound and frantically tried to scrub the tears from his cheeks.

"What do you want? Have you come to make fun of me too?" Ricardo spat out the words as if they were vile. "I'm not in the mood to put up with anymore shit. So, if that's your intention, you can walk away now."

John and Randy shared a look. John made his way over to the smaller man. "Hey. Whoever said that we were here to make fun of you?" John asked kindly.

"It's what everyone else does, so why wouldn't you?" Ricardo asked sadly. More tears started to brew in his eyes.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we're not 'everyone else'. Now, what's the matter, Ricardo?" Randy asked.

Ricardo shook his head and scrubbed at his eyes. "I'm fine. Why would you think that something is the matter? I just… I need some fresh air, that's all." Ricardo made to stand.

John shook his head. "We can _tell_ that something is the matter because you're out here crying."

"Does it have to do with Alberto?" Randy put two-and-two together.

Ricardo looked between the two of them and then broke down into tears. "I'll take that as a yes."

Ricardo fell back to the floor and buried his face in his hands. His stomach churned violently and he was so afraid that he would be alone, that he and this baby would be on their own… but he didn't want to go back to Alberto. Before he could even voice his need, John handed him and trashcan and Ricardo emptied the contents of his stomach into it. When he was finished, John brushed his hand over Ricardo's clammy forehead.

John and Randy sat on the floor beside Ricardo. It was clear that, at that moment, he needed a friend – he needed someone that would stand by him, until he could finally voice what was on his mind. Slowly, John stroked his sweaty hair and tried to console him. When Ricardo started to softly murmur Alberto's name, both knew without a doubt that he was the cause of the announcer's distress. That was when they saw the bruise on his cheek.

Slowly, carefully, John took Ricardo's hand and peeled it away from his face so that he could get a better look at the bruise. It looked awful. It was purple and swollen and heated. Putting two-and-two together, he realized that Alberto must've struck him and that Ricardo must've retaliated. John's heart went out to the smaller man and, without a word; he put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him into his chest.

"I only have one question for you, Ricardo. Do you think that you can answer it for me?" John asked softly, sweetly. He didn't want to scare Ricardo, but at the same time, he needed to know.

Ricardo sniffled pathetically and nodded slowly. One hand fell down to his stomach, trying to console the baby that kicked frantically. "Y-Yes. What is it that you want to know?"

"I want to know who it was that gave you that bruise." John said. "Tell me, was it Alberto?"

Ricardo was silent for several minutes. The silence between them was almost uncomfortable.

"Ricardo, you can trust me. You can trust us. We only want to help you." John told him. Randy nodded, as if to confirm this. "Was it Alberto who hurt you?"

Ricardo swallowed hard, before he nodded. "Yes."


	18. What He Deserves

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Ricardo was thankful to John Cena and Randy Orton, not that he would ever tell them that. Without them, he would have never been able to voice his discontent toward Alberto. And, to be honest, he felt much better now that he had. Now that someone else knew what he had to deal with, self-satisfaction leaked into his bones. He felt much safer with John and Randy at his back. He wouldn't have to look over his shoulder and fear Alberto anymore.

However, at the same time, he felt kind of bad. Deep down inside, so deep that sometimes, he didn't even realize it was there, he knew that he loved Alberto. Alberto had taken swept him out from in front of the bus before the tires could run over him and kill what was left of his miserable existence. Alberto had always been there for him. And somewhere, underneath the mess that was Alberto Del Rio's mind, Ricardo knew that Alberto loved him too.

There was a knock on the door. Ricardo frowned as he looked at the clock. It was 2:30 AM. Who could want to bother him at this hour? Nevertheless, he answered the door. "Hello?"

It was Sheamus on the other side. "Hey there, fella. I think that we need to have a little bit of a talk 'bout some stuff." When Ricardo tensed, Sheamus smirked. "Don't worry, Ricky Ricardo. I'm not here to kick ya."

For some reason, a reason that Ricardo did not fully understand, Ricardo trusted Sheamus at his word. He stepped aside and allowed the fiery red-head into his hotel room. After his earlier fall-out with Alberto, he believed it best if he took out his own hotel room. He intended to leave New York in less than a week and head back to Mexico. This time would be different, however. This time, he would stay there.

Sheamus helped himself to one of the seats at the tiny little table in the kitchen. Ricardo, who had been making some tea to settle his stomach, fixed two cups and set one in front of Sheamus. Sheamus stared at the tiny little cup and tried to stick his finger through the hole in the handle. It didn't fit. Ricardo could barely hold back frantic fits of laughter as Sheamus finally relented and grabbed hold of the cup around the rim.

"So, you said that you had come to talk with me. What was it that you wanted to talk about?" Ricardo asked, his voice smooth and calm. However, Sheamus could see the truth in his eyes. He was terribly lost and so, so confused.

"I'm here to talk about Bertie." Ricardo tensed, but Sheamus was quick to placate him. "Don't worry, Ricky Ricardo. I'm not here to insist that ya head back to him. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm here to congratulate you."

Ricardo frowned. He set his tea cup down and stared into Sheamus' gray eyes. "I don't understand what I've done to deserve congratulations. Enlighten me, would you?"

"You've finally broken out of your shell and set out on your own. I say that we should drink to that." Sheamus said.

Confusion was still etched onto Ricardo's face. "I only broke out of my shell because Alberto tried to break my face."

"Ah yes, well… that is unfortunate, isn't it? But I don't think that you'll have to worry about ol' Bertie for awhile. I took care of him for ya." Sheamus smirked darkly. Ricardo swallowed hard.

"I'm not sure that I like the sound of that." Ricardo mumbled.

"Oh, ya don't have to worry too much about it. I just rearranged his pretty little face, maybe cracked a few ribs. He'll be fine in a few days." Sheamus said, satisfaction in his voice.

Was it wrong that Ricardo was thankful to Sheamus for what he had done? Some little portion of Ricardo's mind told him that yes, it was incredibly wrong. It was sick and twisted and oh-so-satisfying. But the bigger part, the part that Ricardo listened to, was connected to his heart. His heart told him that, no matter how much he loved Alberto, unless Alberto received the help that he needed, he would always be a monster. To Ricardo _and_ to the baby.

Ricardo drank some of his tea. It had the desired effect. All of the nerves that had been lit on fire because of this whole situation were suddenly drenched in ice-cold water and cauterized. Relief washed over him and he allowed himself to feel truly safe and secure. For the first time, he realized that Sheamus wasn't truly his enemy. Sheamus wanted to help him, not to hurt him. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

"So, how is the baby?" Sheamus asked after several moments of intense silence.

Ricardo's eyes widened. "How did you…"

Sheamus smiled. "You're startin' to show, fella. Your suit is a bit tight around the middle, or haven't ya noticed? But don't worry. I'm just good at picking out details. I don't think anyone else has noticed."

"Oh." Ricardo choked out. A bit of color dotted his cheeks. "She's just fine. I was worried about her after… well, you know. But I went to see the trainer and she said that there were no signs that the baby was in distress."

"That's good to hear, Ricky Ricardo." Sheamus downed the rest of his tea in one swallow. "I was worried for ya there for a while. But don't worry. I don't think ol' Bertie will be puttin' his hands on ya anytime soon."

"What do you mean?" Ricardo asked, his eyes wide and a little bit afraid.

"Let's just say… Randy and John are over at his hotel room now, giving him a taste of his own medicine." Sheamus smirked. "And I heard that Randy can be rather dangerous when children are involved."

More fear filled Ricardo's eyes. "Really?"

Sheamus nodded. "Really."

* * *

Alberto Del Rio had barely made it back to his hotel room before someone started to knock on his door. Alberto frowned. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any rabid fans (who were beneath him) or some stupid maid that had trailed him only to complain about the bloodstains he had left on her carpet (she was also beneath him). He opened the door and, before he could even register who was outside, felt a fist connect with his cheek.

Randy stormed at him. He took hold of his slimy hair and wrapped his arm around his neck, pulling him into a vicious RKO onto the tile floor of the kitchen. A hot, wet, sticky substance covered his face seconds later. Alberto was fairly certain that it was blood, but he couldn't be sure until he raised his hand to his forehead and pulled it away, finding a red substance all over his hand. It barely sunk in before Randy took him by the hair and bashed his head on the tile.

John landed several vicious blows to his already cracked ribs. Pain overwhelmed him as he floated in and out of consciousness, barely able to realize what was happening to him. He felt his ankle twist and his wrist exploded in pain as Randy stomped on every limb that was visible, before he returned his attention to his head. Alberto felt like he was about to be sick, but that came and went as more blood left his body.

Finally, John walked over to Randy, wrapped his arms around his midsection, and yanked him back. If Randy continued to abuse Alberto's head and neck, he could easily kill the man. That was the last thing that he wanted. Randy continued to stew in John's arms, but John whispered sweet nothings to the smaller man to calm him down. Once his breathing returned to normal, John released him.

"What the… the hell… was that… that for?" Alberto whispered. There was blood in his throat and he could barely breathe. But he kept his eyes open and focused on Randy, ready to take another attack if it were to come.

"Oh, you know full-well what that was for." Randy hissed at him. "Or don't you remember what you did to Ricardo? You bruised him and you battered him. And we both know that this wasn't the first time."

"Did he… he tell… tell you that?" Alberto choked. He coughed and blood splattered onto the tile floor.

"You little fucker? Do you think that I'm blind?" Randy kicked him harshly and watched as Alberto's eyes closed in pain. John's hand wrapped around his wrist. "Take your fucking hands off of me, Johnny!"

"No! Randy, if you continue to kick him, you'll kill him! You'll end up behind bars and your career will be ruined. Do you really want to do that to yourself?" John asked.

"What if this had been our baby? What if I had been hit and had lost the baby? Wouldn't you want to kill the fucker who had caused me pain? Huh?" Randy hissed.

"Ricardo… lost the… the baby?" Alberto trailed off as he started to cough again.

"You're damn lucky that he didn't. Otherwise, this," Randy motioned to Alberto's battered body, "would seem like child's play. You know how you feel right now?"

"Awful." Was all that Alberto could force out.

"That was how Ricardo felt every time you put your hands on him and hurt him. He felt that and ten times more. How would you feel if you were pregnant and Ricardo hit you? You would hate him! You would want him dead!"

John frowned. "Randy, nobody deserves to die."

Randy shot him a look. "You're right. Dying would be too good for this prick."

John sighed. "Randy…"

"He deserves to rot in the deepest corner of hell, where he would be eternally alone."

John frowned, but didn't comment. Randy was extremely touchy about stuff like this, which was totally understandable. But still, that didn't mean that Randy could go ahead and kill the man. They needed to have boundaries to make sure that Randy didn't overstep his mark. In law school, they were often called one-punch homicides. You didn't mean to kill him, it was only an accident. But that didn't change the fact that they were dead.

After several minutes of silence, Randy kicked Alberto once more for good measure. And then, he turned on his heel and stormed off. He was sickened by the way that he had treated Alberto, but he was sickened by the way that Alberto had treated Ricardo. John followed close behind, leaving Alberto on the floor, writhing in pain. Hopefully, the lesson finally broke into Alberto's skin and he knew what he had to do now.

"I… I'm sorry… Ricardo." Alberto winced as he tried to breathe, but it was extremely difficult to do so. "I'm so… so sorry. For everything."


	19. A New Kind of Evil

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Implied Non-Con, etc.

* * *

Alberto blinked. Slowly, he rolled over onto his back and looked at the clock. It was 6:00 AM. So, he had only been out for a few hours. A flood of relief washed over him as he closed his eyes. However, he then heard a frantic knock at his door. The blood froze in his veins. The last time that he had opened the door, he had been brutally attacked. He didn't want to suffer from a repeat performance.

But when he realized that the person on the other side of the door wasn't about to leave, he sighed and hauled himself to his feet. He shook off the wave of nausea that violently assaulted him and blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. And then, with the best mask on his face that he could muster, he made his way over to the door. He didn't think that he could handle any more surprises. But, as it turned out, life had another one in store for him.

On the other side of the door stood none other than Rey Mysterio, the man who he had taken out of commission for several months over the course of the last year. In his clouded mind, he could've sworn that Sin Cara was beside him. But that couldn't be possible. Both men hated him. Both men would want him dead. And that's when it occurred to him. They must've heard about what Randy and John had done to him and wanted a piece for themselves.

"What the hell do you want?" Alberto tried to sound menacing, but his voice was heavily slurred from his concussion and he had started to wobble to the side unsteadily.

"We came to see if the rumors around the locker room were true." Rey said. Alberto raised an eyebrow. "It looks like Randy really _did_ beat your face in. Good for him. I heard physical therapy works like a charm."

Alberto sneered. "Very funny, perro. Now, did you have an actual reason that you came, or did you just want to make fun of Alberto Del Rio?" Alberto cussed fluently under his breath as black crept into his vision once more.

"You look like shit, Bertie." Sin Cara said. Rey chuckled, but when Alberto narrowed his eyes at him, he quickly turned a stuff face toward Sin Cara.

"Now, now, Sin Cara. He _is_ an aristocrat. We should treat the man with some respect." Rey said.

Sin Cara rolled his eyes behind his mask. "I didn't know that aristocrats beat their lovers black and blue."

Rey turned his head to the side as he studied Alberto. "You're right. I didn't know that either."

Finally, Alberto snapped. "Is there a reason that the two of you came, other than to add to my impressive migraine and make me feel sick to my stomach in the presence of dogs? No, of _insects_."

Rey turned to him, stiff faced and tight lipped. "Well, we _came_ to make sure that you were okay."

"And we can clearly see that you're not." Sin Cara added.

As if on cue, Alberto's feet went out from underneath him and he fell down onto the floor. Rey and Sin Cara watched him with a blank look on their masked faces. Once he hit the floor, unconscious, the two of them shared a look. So, it was worse then what they had heard in the locker room. Randy had certainly done a number on the man. He had stripped him of his dignity, bloodied and battered him, and had just… left him there.

Immediately, Sin Cara and Rey knew what they had to do. They set their differences with the man aside and, with all of the strength they could muster between them, lifted him up (Rey at the head, Sin Cara at the feet) and carried him over to the bed. Carefully, they set him down onto the cold blankets and inspected him for any visible injuries besides the ones to his head. A few minutes later, they noticed the bruises on his chest.

Finally, they stripped him out of his clothes and threw the soiled clothes into the hamper. Rey went off to find something to use as a cold compress to keep the swelling down, while Sin Cara went into the bathroom to try and find the Tylenol and some water. Both men returned a few minutes later, their items in hand. Sin Cara forced Alberto to swallow the medication, before Rey applied a cold compress to his head and his chest.

"Man," Rey shook his head as he stared at Alberto's body. "I know that Randy has a little bit of an anger management issue, but don't you think that this is a bit drastic?"

Sin Cara stared at his tag team partner from behind his mask. "Seriously, Rey? He has a _little_ bit of an anger management issue? Look at what he did to Alberto! He could have permanent damage!"

"We don't know that." Rey countered.

"How do we know what we don't know? Do you have a medical background?" Sin Cara exclaimed. Rey shook his head. "I didn't think so. I don't either."

"We should stay with him until he wakes up. Then, we can make our decision." Rey said.

"The attack should still be reported to AJ Lee and to Vince McMahon." Sin Cara countered.

"Hey! I didn't hear you being so adamant about reporting it after the attack first happened, now did I? We're both in this deep. We're _all_ in this deep. We have to play it out." Rey said.

"I only wish that they didn't have to drag us into their drama…" Sin Cara trailed off.

"What would life be without a little drama?" Rey sat back in one of the chairs and opened one of Alberto's books. "Take a seat. We're gonna be here for awhile."

Sin Cara cast one last look at Alberto. "Yeah. I guess we are."

* * *

Ricardo walked around the SmackDown arena, more than a little nervous to be out there without Alberto. Alberto had always been his protector, his defender. And now that he had a baby to worry about, he couldn't just piss off anyone. Constantly, he had to look over his shoulder to make sure that someone like Paul wasn't breathing down his throat. Paul could easily demolish him with a flick of one of his big, meaty fingers. Ricardo shivered at the thought.

The baby kicked within him. Automatically, one hand went to his abdomen and started to rub the distended skin in order to calm her. Only one of them was allowed to be anxious at a time, he told himself. And if his anxiousness meant that she would be upset as well, then neither of them would be discontented. Ricardo picked his head up and tried to walk a little faster. If he could only make it to the locker room, then he would be safe…

"Ricardo!" He heard his name. Terror gripped his heart. He knew that voice all too well. Slowly, he turned around, but his arm was grabbed before he could see their face.

Kicking and screaming – or, screaming for Ricardo, which was really nothing more than silently pitching a hissy fit – Ricardo was shoved into the nearest locker room, followed closely behind by his captor. The door was shut and locked behind him. And then, with a flick of his wrist, Sheamus turned the light on. Suddenly, Sheamus was in his face, practically breathing down his neck. Ricardo swallowed hard.

Without further hesitation, Sheamus took Ricardo by the face and kissed him. Shock filled his body and made him freeze the way that he stood. But then, when Sheamus' hands started to meld into his sides, Ricardo felt himself unintentionally relax. He didn't want to relax, damn it! How dare Sheamus do this to him! He thought that he could trust him! Maybe Alberto had been right. Maybe he _could_ only trust Alberto.

A bright flash of a camera went off in the distance. Ricardo tensed. Sheamus drew back and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. "Well, fella. How was it?"

Without even thinking of the consequences, Ricardo slapped Sheamus across the face. "How could you do that to me? I trusted you! You were supposed to be my friend!"

What Sheamus did next broke the poor boy's heart. He _laughed_. He laughed at Ricardo's heartfelt exclamation. "Ya thought that we were _friends_? Fella, I can't stand the sight of ya! This? This was all for Bertie."

Tears poured down Ricardo's cheeks. "I thought that I could trust you…"

Sheamus slowly started to approach him. "Alberto's not the only monster that ya have to worry about, fella. Sometimes, the real wolf comes in wearing a sheep's skin."

Ricardo's chocolate eyes widened. "Sheamus?" He squeaked.

Sheamus turned to his comrade. "Start rolling the camera, fella."


	20. Baby Blues

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Implied Non-Con, etc.

* * *

Sheamus left Ricardo on the floor, curled in a ball of shame and humiliation, with his torn clothes strewn all around him. "You see that, Bertie? That's what happens when you mess with the Champion. Cut the camera."

Ricardo mewled softly as he further curled in on himself. He could feel the dried blood on his skin, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew that Sheamus was no friend of his. Sheamus nudged at his head with a boot-clad foot and turned Ricardo around to face him. When he saw the tears that slowly rolled down his cheeks, Sheamus smiled. Ricardo looked so beautiful when he cried.

But when Sheamus leaned down to try and touch him, Ricardo swiped out and clawed at Sheamus' face with his blunt nails. Sheamus cried out as he felt blood start to bubble to the surface. Cursing in fluent Irish, Sheamus kicked Ricardo in the back and stormed off, the camera man behind him. Fire spread down his spine and Ricardo felt a blunt ache in his abdomen. When he tried to move, the burn only increased.

"B-Baby?" Ricardo choked out. He reached a hand down and felt his abdomen, closing his eyes and trying to feel his baby. Another sharp pain came. "Shit! B-Baby… please, be okay. You have to be okay."

Ricardo didn't know what to do. He could barely move, let alone climb to his feet, walk out of the room, and find help for himself and for his baby. However, he also knew that if he stayed in that room, he could lose that baby forever. Finally, he rolled over onto his side and reached into the tattered remains of his clothes. He took his phone out of what remained of his pocket and dialed a familiar number.

_"Hello?"_

Ricardo swallowed hard. "Randy?"

_"Hey, Ricardo. What's the matter? You sound like someone just attacked you."_ Randy said. It was meant as a joke, but when it received no answer, he could hear Randy hiss. _"Who touched you, Ricardo?"_

Ricardo bit down on his bottom lip and tried to choke back the tears. "I don't… I don't want to talk about that. I just… I need you to… I need you to come and… _ah_!" Ricardo screamed.

Randy started to cuss fluently underneath his breath. _"Okay, Ricardo. I understand. Can you at least tell me where you are? I need to find you as soon as possible."_

"I'm in a locker room. I don't know which one." Ricardo choked out. "Please, hurry."

Randy swallowed hard. _"Okay, Ricardo. I'll be there as soon as I can."_

Before the conversation was even over, the phone fell out of his hand and he felt darkness creep in to the corners of his vision. He let his head loll to the side and unconsciousness followed soon after. Seconds later, Randy stormed into the room, John close at hand. Randy had anticipated a situation like this, and if it came to a physical confrontation, he wanted to have back-up ready.

Both men fell silent as they stared down at Ricardo's battered and bloody body. His dark skin was covered in bruises, and there was a nasty bruise at the base of his spine, right about where the baby would be. Randy felt his blood start to boil as he pictured what he would do to the one who had done this to Ricardo. But he shook it off. No, he couldn't worry about that. Now, he had to worry about Ricardo.

"He could be losing the baby." Randy told John. "We need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. Grab some clothes and put them on him. Try and make sure that they're clean."

"Okay." John nodded. He walked off and retrieved some fresh clothes. "Will these work?" Randy nodded. Slowly, carefully, the two men started to dress the announcer. "Who did this to him?"

Randy shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't tell me when he called. But from the look of it, whatever happened was far from consensual. I can only pray that the baby survived."

John started to put Ricardo's pants on, when he saw something that concerned him. "Randy?"

"What is it, John?" Randy asked. He had already started to shift Ricardo's body around.

"He shouldn't be bleeding there, should he?" John motioned to the blood that stained the insides of Ricardo's legs.

Randy's eyes darkened. "No. That means that there is something wrong with the baby. C'mon. We really need to get him to the hospital now." Randy said. Silently, he added, _let's hope it's not too late._

* * *

Sheamus smirked. He knocked on the door to Alberto Del Rio's room. A few minutes later, the door opened and Sheamus came face-to-face with none other than Sin Cara. Or, rather, face-to-mask. Sin Cara tilted his head to the side in order to show his confusion. Sheamus only smirked. He handed over the camera and waved, before he stalked off in the opposite direction down the hall.

Sin Cara rolled the camera around in his hands, before he shrugged and set the camera down on the table. It was most likely for Alberto, and Alberto was in absolutely no condition to watch anything at the moment. He had woken a few times and was responsive, but he didn't remember what happened (not that they really wanted him to). Sin Cara walked back into the room and sat down across from Rey.

"Who was that at the door?" Rey asked nonchalantly as he turned the pages in his book.

Sin Cara shrugged. "Nobody important. Just someone who wanted to drop off a camera."

"A camera? Did it have something special on it?"

Sin Cara shook his head. "No. It was just a camera. There was nothing special about it at all." Little did either realize just how important that video would be. It would have to wait until later…


	21. Little Baby Christabel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Assault, etc.

* * *

It seemed like only seconds after they arrived at the ER, that Ricardo had been whisked off to the back to have his wounds attended to. From the screams that could be heard, it was obvious that he had regained his consciousness. The doctors had said that the attack had induced his labor, and by the time that they had arrived at the ER, it was too late to sedate him. He would have to have a cesarean without sedation.

Even Randy, the WWE's resident masochist, flinched at the idea of being sliced open while he was still conscious. He wondered how they could even _do_ that legally. That kind of pain could kill someone! Suddenly, the screams were silenced. Silently, both Randy and John hoped that it was because the pain had rendered him unconscious, and not the fact that he had bled out or some other horrific occurrence.

Just then, the doctor came out, her glove-clad hands up in the air and covered in Ricardo's blood. She looked between the two men, before the ever-so-slight imprint of a frown could be seen behind her surgical mask. Both men wondered exactly what this could mean, but both were afraid to ask. Finally, she rid herself of the gloves in the hazardous waste bin and threw her mask away as well.

"Mr. Orton, Mr. Cena, you were the two who brought Mr. Rodriguez to the hospital, is that correct?" Both men nodded. "Then I assume that you are both aware that he was sexually assaulted."

Randy's eyes darkened and he seemed to travel to that place inside of his mind that only he knew. John answered for him. "Yes, that's true. He called Randy and told him that he had been attacked, but he never mentioned a name."

The doctor nodded. "Since Mr. Rodriguez has no next-of-kin listed in his medical files, you two are next in line as you were the ones who signed off for him to receive treatment at our facility."

Both men nodded. "What did that bastard do to him?" Randy hissed.

John shot his lover a look. "I'm very sorry, ma'am. He's just a tad bit emotionally compromised."

The doctor shook her head. "No. I totally understand. Believe me, if it were my friend who had been attacked, I would be in the same boat." The doctor took out Ricardo's file. "Ricardo suffered extensive damage from the attack.

"He had seven broken ribs, most of which were floating. One of the ribs broke off and punctured his lung. You mentioned he had trouble talking?" Randy nodded. "That would be one reason as to why that occurred.

"His neck was badly out of place. We had to put a few screws in, which will be removed at a later date. The screws are only for realignment, but he will need bolts once we take them out.

"He also had several contusions and lacerations, which looked to be caused with a Swiss Army knife. Most were around his chest and stomach area, but one was found underneath his abdomen, where the baby was."

Randy felt like he was about to be sick. What kind of cruel monster would do that to a man that was about to have his first child? Wasn't it bad enough that that child also happened to be the child of Alberto Del Rio? Randy twisted his hands in his lap and tried to think calm, revitalizing thoughts. Anything to keep him from acting on the bloody streaks of red that streaked down his vision. Anything. Anything.

John, who had noticed Randy's discomfort, started to rub the Viper's back and try to ease the tension out of his muscles. He was so wound up, it wouldn't be too difficult to believe that we was ready and willing to attack anyone who crossed him. And while John loved that about Randy, it could also be somewhat annoying. Randy needed to use his head and keep cool. He couldn't let someone climb under his skin like this.

"What about the baby, doctor? How is she?" John asked.

The doctor's face darkened. "Well, that's actually quite the story. The baby lived, that much I can assure you. Her continued survival, however, is much less certain. She sustained multiple injuries when Ricardo was kicked.

"When the baby was removed in the C-Section, it was found that she had a dark bruise on her head. The baby would have been breech, so her head was at the part of his spine where the attacker kicked him.

"Also, being only seven months, her lungs were not fully developed. They filled with water almost immediately and one collapsed. As we speak, doctors and nurses are working to stabilize her."

"What are the chances that she will survive?" Randy asked. His voice was dark and low.

"Honestly." The doctor had a sad look on her face as her eyes flickered between the two men. "She has a one in two-hundred fifty chance at survival. She'd need a miracle. And, if she _did_ survive, she could have brain damage."

John nodded solemnly. "Thank you, doctor."

The doctor turned and walked back into the ER to help save the life that she had just brought into the world. John turned to face his lover, only to find that his lover wasn't there anymore. Randy was up and on his feet, quickly making his way toward the door with a determined stride. Seriously? John couldn't take his eyes off of him for more than a few seconds, or else he'd run off and do something stupid!

John raced to catch up to him, but it seemed like fate had other ideas in mind. Every door that Randy went through decided to close in John's face, the main entrance was blocked by an ambulance, and Randy was almost at the car. Speeding up his pace, he threw himself down the stairs two at a time and raced to catch up with his pissed off lover. They needed to talk about this. They needed to talk before someone got hurt.

"Randy!" John screamed at him, breathless. "Where the hell do you think that you're going?"

"Where does it look like?" Randy narrowed his eyes at him, before he slid into the car. The windows were already rolled down, so he yelled. "I'm off to kill the bastard that did this to Ricardo." And with that said, he drove off.


	22. The Pieces of the Puzzle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Domestic Violence, Implied Non-Con, etc.

* * *

It was a day later when Alberto stirred and was able to remain conscious for more than a few seconds at a time. He blinked blearily, his eyes crusted and reddened from lack of use. Weakly, he scrubbed at them with a balled fist. When he was able to see clearly, he looked around to the two men at his bedside. Sin Cara and Rey Mysterio sat in two recliners by the bed, both of their attention diverted elsewhere.

Slowly, Alberto crawled up in bed so that his back was to the headboard. The awkward creak of the mattress alerted Rey and Sin Cara to the fact that he had awakened, and they set their respective items down and walked over to him. Alberto stared at them both blankly. He honestly had very little recollection of what had occurred, but maybe that was for the best. If he _did_ remember, he would most likely kill Randy for what he had done to him.

Alberto looked between the two men. "Why the hell are the two of you here? What the hell happened to me?" Alberto asked. Even as he spoke, his temples throbbed with pain.

"You took one hell of a fall, Alberto." Rey said. "We had come over to check on you, because we had heard… some stuff. You answered the door and fainted."

Sin Cara shared a look with his partner, before he turned to Alberto. "We were afraid that you had some kind of head trauma, possibly a concussion. We stayed with you to make sure that you were okay."

Alberto narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I _fainted_? Why would I have fainted?"

"You honestly don't remember, Bertie?" Rey asked with a small chuckle. Alberto narrowed his eyes at the nickname, but also at the teasing. "You had your ass handed to you."

"And your face engraved into the kitchen floor." Sin Cara added smugly.

"Well, since the two of you seem to know so much about this, who did this to me?" Alberto asked.

The smiles slid off of both of their faces. Sin Cara and Rey shared a look, before Sin Cara sighed and walked off. Rey worried his bottom lip, before he finally decided that he had no choice but to confess. "It's a long story…"

"I have the time."

Of course he would have the time to find out who attacked him, Rey thought to himself. He would want to make a mental note of the name so that, when he had all of his functions back, he would be able to head out and kill them. Not that Alberto really stood a chance against Randy. The younger man's anger was boiling over and Rey wasn't sure how much longer he could contain it before he did something that he would truly regret.

But now, Rey had been backed into a corner. He could admit that it was his own fault, but still. So, he confessed. He told Alberto how rumors of him abusing Ricardo had started to circulate around the locker room long before. It was rumored that you could tell how mad Alberto was by how battered Ricardo was the next time you saw him. But when Randy confirmed the abuse with his own eyes, he lost it and attacked Alberto.

Alberto was fuming. How dare the other stars and divas talk about them behind his back? Who did they think that they were? And he was not… he was not… he couldn't even finish that sentence. He _had_ been abusive to Ricardo. But that didn't mean that it was everyone's business. And yes, he knew that he had been a bad boyfriend, lover, or whatever it is that he was to Ricardo. He didn't need everyone else to remind him of that.

"Why the hell would he do that to me?" Alberto decided to play dumb. He just knew that it had to do with the fact that he was jealous of Alberto's destiny to become the World Heavyweight Champion.

Sin Cara came back with some Aspirin and a Dixie cup filled with cold water. Alberto took it, swallowed the pill down, and stuffed the items back into his hand without a 'thank you'. "You do know about the baby, right?"

A solid lump formed in Alberto's throat and suddenly he couldn't breathe. "The baby…"

"She was born yesterday. John and Randy took Ricardo to the hospital for an emergency c-section."

Alberto blinked dumbly. Emergency? What kind of emergency was there? "I don't understand. Do you mean that there was something wrong with the baby?"

Rey nodded sadly. "She was born with underdeveloped lungs and a bruise on her head. The doctor's not sure -,"

Alberto cut him off. "A bruise on her head? From what?"

Rey swallowed hard and forced himself to soldier on. "Someone attacked him. Kicked him in the spine, _hard_. As it turned out, the baby was breech and her head was there."

"And Randy thinks that I…" Alberto's voice shook as he pictured it. He shivered.

"I honestly don't know _what_ Randy thinks."

Just then, there was a harsh knock on the door. It was so loud that they could hear the door rattle, even from the bedroom. Rey looked back at Alberto, but Alberto was in his own little world. He mumbled to himself about kicks and babies and innocent and a bunch of other words that made absolutely no sense. Rey shook his head. After he excused himself, he walked over to the door and answered it.

An irate Randy Orton stood on the other side. The second the door was open, Randy shoved past him and started to make his way toward the bed. He was seeing red. This would most likely be the point where Michael Cole would say that 'he's gone to that place in his mind, where he hears the voices in his head'. Hell, with that look on his face, Rey didn't think that was too far of a stretch.

Randy stormed over to the bed, took hold of Alberto's shirt collar, and yanked him up so hard that his back left the bed. "You little fucker! Do you realize what you've done?"

"I haven't done a fucking thing, Randy! From what these two goons tell me, I've been in this bed for the better part of the last two or three days." Alberto shot back.

Randy shook his head. "Don't fucking lie to me! I know what you did to Ricardo! Don't you realize that he could have lost his baby, and probably will, because of you?" Randy slapped his face harshly. Alberto moaned.

Rey put a hand on Randy's shoulder. "Randy, you need to lay off of him a little bit. You could kill him."

"Fuck off, Rey." Randy hissed, before he turned back to Alberto. "Do you realize what you've done?"

Rey squeezed Randy's shoulder a little harder and yanked him back off of Alberto. He didn't know where that strength had come from, but he wasn't about to question it. "I'm telling you that he didn't do it."

Randy tensed, turned around, and looked at the smaller man with narrowed eyes. "Well, Rey. If he didn't do it, then who the fuck did?"

Suddenly, all eyes turned to Sin Cara. Nobody had realized it when he had snuck out of the line of fire a few minutes before. But now, he held the camera in his hands, his face stoic behind his mask. There was audio, so all present assumed that he was watching some kind of video. And then, there was some kind of scream. Nobody present could identify it. Sin Cara couldn't watch anymore and he ended the video.

He could only say one word. "Sheamus."

* * *

The doctor stared down at the sweet little baby in her crib in the NICU. She seemed so tiny, her body shriveled and frail. But she was also incredibly beautiful. A symbol of strength, dedication, and commitment. A symbol of how much her mother had loved her, to defend her with his own body and make sure that she survived. Without even realizing it, a small smile started to form as she circled around the crib.

Christabel Del Rio had deep, mocha colored skin. Her hair was like fine copper with flecks of yellow in it, but she assumed that it would become darker (until it was about the color of Ricardo's) as she got older. And when her eyes were open, which was only for a few seconds at a time, they were a deep, chocolate brown. Absolutely beautiful. It was a shame that she had to be born with so many complications.

The doctor called her name softly. The baby's eyes fluttered at the sound. She didn't recognize the word, not yet. But she knew the doctor's voice and she liked to hear it over the loud, scary roar of the machines that kept her alive. Not turning her head, the baby blinked her sweet chocolate brown eyes at the ceiling. When the doctor moved in to check her concussion, she whined and fussed and eventually, her eyes closed once more.

The doctor scribbled a few notes down onto her chart, before she frowned. "Christabel, you have to pull through this. You have to survive. I'm not sure what your Momma is gonna do if you don't make it. So please, Christabel… live."


	23. Questions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Violence, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Implied Non-Con, etc.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'Sheamus'?" Randy turned around and yanked the camera out of the smaller man's hands. This earned a scowl from the luchador, but he knew better than to comment.

Randy's eyes widened as the scene unfolded before his eyes. The sound was terrible, but he could still make out the red-haired man's Irish accent as he told Ricardo to shut his mouth. A roll of duct-tape was shown. It sat on the couch, far off from the actual incident, but it was still there nonetheless. Ricardo kicked and clawed at Sheamus, desperate to be back on his feet so that he could _run_, but Sheamus beat him down.

Another man could be heard in the distance, but his voice was so soft that Randy couldn't identify it. It must've been the camera man. Randy continued to watch, mesmerized in the sickness of it all, as Sheamus struggled to rid Ricardo of his suit jacket. When Ricardo fussed, Sheamus clubbed him over the head with one of his meaty fists. When Ricardo went out cold, Randy couldn't watch anymore. He set the camera down on the table nearby.

"Would someone care to tell me what the fuck all of this is about? Ricardo could be seriously hurt or dead and my baby could be in the same condition. What does Sheamus have to do with this?" Alberto screamed.

Randy turned to him. "You don't have a lot of room to talk, Bertie." Randy said. "If you hadn't made Ricardo feel like he couldn't trust anyone, couldn't turn to anyone in his time of need, this never would have happened."

Alberto sneered at him. It made Randy's blood run cold, and for a minute, he contemplated rearranging Ricardo's smug little face. "You don't know anything about this, so I wouldn't even try and talk."

"I know enough to know that Ricardo loved you and you ruined him." Randy threw back. Alberto's eyes widened.

_"Loved?"_ As in, the past-tense. Could it really be so easy to demolish a love that he had worked for for so long?

"You've made Ricardo afraid of everyone outside of your perfect little pureblooded world. You've manipulated his mind and his body for so many years. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't love you anymore."

Alberto's heart sank. It sank so far that it felt as if it had dropped right out of his body. He couldn't feel, he couldn't think, he couldn't _breathe_. Ricardo didn't love him anymore? That didn't seem right. Everyone liked Alberto Del Rio, and even if they didn't, they would never come out and say it to his face. One Cross-Arm Breaker later and they would wish that they had never opened their fat, tainted mouths.

A sudden scream from the direction of the table where Randy had set the camera startled all of the inhabitants of the room. Suddenly, all eyes were on the tiny little screen as the horrendous acts committed by Sheamus were relived in brutal detail. All but one had to look away from the dismal sight. All but Alberto. He studied the screen, realizing with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he had done so much worse to Ricardo, and Ricardo had taken every minute of it.

It was then and only then that the full weight of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks to the chest. He was a monster. He was an abusive bastard that had hurt Ricardo an innumerable amount of times. And he had taken immense pleasure in every minute of it. He had never felt lower than he did at that minute. And the harsh, heated glare that he was receiving from Randy didn't help.

"I need to find him." Alberto broke the awkward, uncomfortable silence. Silently, Rey reached out and turned off the camera. "I need to find him and make sure that he's okay."

"And how do you think that you're gonna do that, Alberto? You have a concussion. I don't think that that is the best course of action. You may only make the situation worse." Rey said.

"My love and my baby could be hurt, and you think that you're gonna sit me down and tell me to just 'wait and see'? I don't think so. And don't think that you could stop me, even if you wanted to."

The three men shared a look. Randy was the first one to speak. "Who said that we wanted to stop you? Ricardo needs you, now more than ever. And even if I think that you're a selfish prick, Ricardo's needs come first."

Alberto smirked a little too easily. "You sound like you're in love with him, Randal."

Randy's jaw tightened. "No. But I do have first-hand experience with what it's like to be abused."

The two stared at each other uncomfortably for a minute, before Rey decided to intervene before it could become messy. "Before we can do _anything_, we need a plan. We can't just march in there unprepared."

"What do you propose we do?" Sin Cara asked his mentor.

"As painful as it may be, someone needs to stay behind and watch the rest of that video. We need to somehow identify who the camera man is. He's just as guilty as Sheamus, after all."

Randy was practically chomping at the bit to get his hands on Sheamus, and Alberto was about to crawl out of his skin with worry over Ricardo. "I'll do it." Sin Cara said.

Rey nodded. "I'll stay behind with you. That way, if it gets too messy, we can trade-off. Alberto, you will go and stay with Ricardo. Do your best to console him. And Randy… you get the honor of dealing with Sheamus."

Randy grinned an animalistic grin. "I'll tear that little fucker to shreds."

"Which is exactly why you will take John with you, to make sure that your anger is in check."

Randy's face fell and his eyebrow twitched a little bit. He didn't need some babysitter to tell him what he could and could not do to the Irish brute. It wasn't like he was a child. And the fact that the babysitter had to be his lover, the WWE's resident boy scout, didn't make it any better. John would rather talk it over with Sheamus over a cup of tea than allow Randy to do half of the damage that he had had done to Alberto.

But Randy could also see where Rey was coming from. He had already been suspended once this year, and had also been taken out for several months with a severe back injury that very-well could have (and probably should have) ended his career. He didn't need to add criminal charges to that list. The WWE was just looking for any reason to take that security blanket out from underneath him, and this would be the icing on the proverbial cake.

"Do we all know what we have to do?" Rey asked. The other three men nodded affirmatively. "Okay, then. There's no time to waste. Let's get started."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Ricardo awoke to a soft knock on his door. This would be his first time conscious since he had arrived at the hospital. Shock overwhelmed him as the first thing he realized was that he could no longer feel Christabel move inside of him. In fact, he felt uncomfortably… empty. His heart sank as he realized what this meant. Sheamus had caused him to miscarry his baby.

He didn't even feel the subtle warmth of tears as they started to streak down his face. In fact, he didn't feel at all. Staring blankly in the direction of the door, he called to whoever was on the other side to come in. It was Alberto. A pang of fear hit Ricardo in the chest, but then he was filled with nothingness again. He knew that he should be afraid. After all, the only logical reason that Alberto could be here would be to hurt him. But he couldn't force himself to be.

Alberto slid into the chair beside the bed and started down at his announcers face. The tracts of old tears, combined with the wet streaks of fresh ones, were visible on his mocha skin. Alberto reached out and slid his thumb along them, drying the tears from his cheeks in a comforting gesture that was unfamiliar between them. Ricardo's sobs stuttered to a halt and he could only stare at Alberto in terrified wonder. Why?

And so he voiced his question, his confusion, out loud. "Why? Why are you here?" His voice was muffled and he stuttered out every other word. "I told you that I never wanted to see you again."

Alberto nodded and Ricardo could've sworn that he saw pain in Alberto's eyes. "I know, mi amour. I know. You hate me and I deserve every bit of it. But there's something that I have to tell you, something that I should have -,"

"Nothing matters anymore. Nothing matters now that she's dead." Ricardo mumbled underneath his breath.

"No, no. Don't say that, mi amour. She's not dead." Not yet, at least. But he held that last bit back, for fear that that pain would return in Ricardo's eyes. "She suffered a lot of damage, but she's not dead."

Ricardo narrowed his eyes at his boss, his love, unsure if he could trust him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the baby would have been breech, and because of some damage that you sustained at the hands of Sheamus, she had a bruise on the back of her head. She has a concussion, now."

"But she's alive?" Ricardo breathed, disbelieving.

Alberto nodded firmly. He took Ricardo's hands and kissed them furiously. "Yes, mi amour. She's alive."

A flood of relief washed over him, so strong that it almost knocked him unconscious. "But, wait a minute. What was it that you wanted to tell me?"

"It's not something that I want to tell, not necessarily. It's something that I should have asked years ago." Ricardo blinked, dumbfounded, as Alberto reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. "Ricardo, will you marry me?"


	24. Hermosa

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

"No." Ricardo said firmly. "No. I don't want to."

Alberto blinked dumbly, as if he didn't understand. In fact, he _didn't_ understand. "What?"

"I can't marry you. The only reason you want to marry me is because you are afraid that I'll take the baby and leave. You want to imprison me. I can't let you do that." Ricardo said, his eyes sealed closed and his face turned elsewhere.

"Mi amour, mi amour, whoever said that I wanted to _imprison_ you? No, that was _never_ my intention! I want to shield you from that bastard that did this to you. I want you to know that he will never be able to hurt you -,"

"He'll never be able to hurt me like you did?" Ricardo offered softly. "What Sheamus did to me… How he _violated_ me… You've done worse, Alberto." Ricardo stated.

"I know. That's my shame, Ricardo. I never should have hurt you like that. I know that I need to be better. Not only for you, but also for our baby. Like it or not, I'm still her father." Alberto said.

Hurt by Alberto's cockiness, Ricardo shunned him. "How can you be so sure?"

"What do you mean? How can I be so sure of what?" Alberto asked.

"How can you be so sure that you're her father?"

Now, if Alberto were to be totally honest with himself, that was one idea that had never occurred to him. Ricardo wasn't the kind to run around behind his back, even if they had never been an official 'item'. But, he had to admit, maybe Christabel _wasn't_ his child. It made his temper boil. He made sure to keep it in check, however, just in case this was some kind of test and all that Ricardo had told him was a lie.

Slowly, Alberto reached out and took hold of Ricardo's hand. He stared at his face, into his warm, chocolate eyes, at the darkened bruise on his cheek, and all of the other injuries that marred his otherwise perfect face. Deep down inside, he had wanted to hunt down the Great White and massacre him for what he had done to Ricardo. But he knew that Ricardo needed him more, so that was where his loyalty rested.

He was thankful that Ricardo didn't try to yank his hand away. He was sure that that would have shattered whatever was left of his blackened heart. Now, he realized that what Ricardo had said was absolutely true. Alberto had hurt Ricardo, but he would never take it so far as to say that what he had done was worse than what Sheamus had done. But he didn't comment. He couldn't lose Ricardo.

"Whether or not the baby is mine, I'll still love her. And if she isn't mine, I understand the reason behind it. You couldn't trust me. The way I behaved was shameful and… I'm sorry, Ricardo." Alberto said truthfully.

Ricardo blinked several times in disbelief. "What was that?"

"I said that I was sorry for the way that I treated you. You didn't deserve that." Alberto said.

"I never thought that I would live to see the day when the mighty Alberto Del Rio apologized for something and was actually sorry about it." Ricardo smirked a little bit.

"Don't get used to it. I don't intend to let it happen all that often." Alberto shot back, but there was the smallest hint of a smile on his face as well. "About the baby, Ricardo…"

"Yes?" Ricardo raised one eyebrow. He did his best to remain elusive.

"Is she mine… or is she another man's?" Alberto asked softly.

"I don't really see how that is any of your business."

Once more, Alberto felt his temper flare. But that only brought a shower of shame down on his shoulders. If it was this easy for him to lose his temper, over something that should only worry him, then he could only imagine the other things that he had blown up at the poor announcer about. It made him sick to think about it. He only tightened his hold on Ricardo's hand, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, counting backwards from then.

Honestly, Ricardo was impressed. He would've thought that that last comment would have been enough to throw the wrestler off of his game. He expected a vicious onslaught of harsh words and maybe even a few blows, but he didn't receive anything. All he got was a heartbreakingly honest stare from a man whose wealth and class would forever exceed his own. This was Alberto Del Rio, the man who, for some odd reason or another, loved him.

"Ask me again." Ricardo ordered softly. This would be the only time where Ricardo could order Alberto around.

"What?" Alberto asked, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"Ask me again. Only, this time, I want you to mean it."

Ricardo looked down at the box in Alberto's hands and suddenly it all fell into place. Alberto only had one chance at this. But if he could do it correctly, it would mean that he would have Ricardo at his side forever. And isn't that really all he ever wanted? Ricardo and their baby… if it really was his baby. Alberto stared at the box in his hands for a few seconds, before he finally made his decision.

He got down on one knee, extended his hand, and opened the box. It was the way that he should have asked him the first time. "Ricardo Rodriguez, when we first met, I'll admit that I was a self-centered prick who didn't care about anyone other than himself. Hell, I still am now. But something is different. That's you.

"I know that I have anger management issues that I need to sort out. With your help, I'd like to attend counseling. Maybe find out the root of the issue. I just know that that minute that I hit you was the scariest of my life. Not because of what it could have done to my career, but because of what it could have done to _you_.

"I know that you may not believe what I'm telling you, and I'm not here to force you into a corner or to force you to believe that I'll change. I can't make any promises about the future, because I don't know what it holds and promises were meant to be broken. But I can tell you that I will try my best to be a better man for you and the baby.

"But I can only do these things with you at my side. Ricardo, without you, I have no incentive to become a better person. If it wasn't for you, I probably would have let Randy waste me by now. You're my reason to continue. So, please… do me the honor of marrying me?" Alberto asked.

Ricardo was stunned into silence. Alberto Del Rio kneeled for no man, and yet here he was, down on one knee with a ring box extended out toward Ricardo. He wore a beaming smile on his face, displaying all the love and pride that he felt for Ricardo. Ricardo, who had been soiled by Sheamus. Ricardo, who had almost died just a few measly hours before. He wanted Ricardo to marry him. The announcer's heart swelled.

Choked by his emotions, he found himself unable to speak. So, he nodded furiously. Taking Alberto's hand, he led the ring onto his finger, where it should have been and would always sit proudly. For the first time in however many weeks, Alberto could see the blind love and adoration in Ricardo's eyes again. It was like this horror story had never occurred. Magically, the slate had been wiped clean. It was wonderful.

But Alberto drew back from the joyousness, a somber look on his face. "But, the baby, Ricardo…"

"Idiota!" Alberto would let the insult slide. "I cannot believe that you would actually think that she could be anyone other than yours! Christabel is your child, Alberto. Never doubt that."

Alberto let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. "Mi amour, you do not know how worried I was about you. When Rey and Sin Cara told me that you had been attacked, I saw red."

Ricardo looked down, ashamed of himself. "I was… scared as well. I looked all over for you, but I couldn't find you anywhere. That's when Sheamus grabbed me and -," here, he choked to a stop.

"Shh… hush now, mi hermosa." Ricardo flushed at the adoring nickname. "You needn't tell me more. As we speak, John and Randy are taking care of Sheamus. He will receive all that he deserves, and then some."

"How did they…" Ricardo tried to speak, but his voice was slurred by sobs.

"Hush, now, mi hermosa. It's time to rest. We can talk about this more when you feel better." Alberto said. He lowered Ricardo down onto the bed and kissed his eyelids softly. "Hush, now."

Within minutes, Ricardo was fast asleep.


	25. The Attack on Sheamus

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Bloodshed, etc.

* * *

John reached out and touched a hand to his boyfriend's shoulder. "Randy…"

"I don't want to hear it, John. Either you help me take care of him or I will leave you out here and handle him myself." Randy hissed. The flicker of bloodthirsty brutality shined in his icy blue eyes.

John relented. "Fine. But don't kill him, okay? I don't want you behind bars because you lost your temper." John said calmly. "And if I have to, I _will_ take whatever means necessary to make sure you _don't_ kill him."

The hint of a threat was not missed, but Randy didn't comment on it. Randy shuffled back a bit, and then, with one harsh thrust, he put his foot through the door. It went down without a fight, splinters of wood falling in every direction and the knob clattering down to the floor. John shot him a look, his eyes conveying the silent train of thought 'was that really necessary'? Randy only smiled a feral, toothy grin and made his way inside.

Sheamus had heard the crash and he came clambering down the stairs, a towel around his waist. It looked as if he had just finished up a shower. And a few steps behind him, resting at the top of the stairs, was his young lover, Evan Bourne. Randy had to fight the urge to bash the rapist's face in, because he knew that it would traumatize Evan. Even if Sheamus was the scum of the earth, Evan didn't deserve to be treated like trash.

The red-haired brawler was about to make a comment when Randy shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, his heel catching on the stairs and he fell back. His head smacked on the edge of one of the stairs and it cracked open, blood pouring everywhere. Evan let out a rather unmanly scream, but nobody noticed. Quietly, he shuffled off and locked himself in the bedroom. He was too scared to even attempt to retaliate.

"Who the fuck do you think that you are, to take somebody that _clearly_ doesn't want you? Does it make you feel like a man to rape a _pregnant_ ring announcer?" Randy screamed in his face. Sheamus stared at him, dazed.

After several minutes, Sheamus blinked and cleared the fog out of his eyes. "Who the hell told you that _I_ was the one who hurt him?" Sheamus hissed. "How do you know it wasn't that scum ball Del Rio?"

"We watched the video you made of him, you sick bastard! _That's_ how we know!" Randy screamed.

John reached out for him. "Randy, calm down. Remember what I told you."

"Back off, John!" Randy hissed at him, before he threw his hand off.

"I didn't touch him. Why would anyone want him after Del Rio trashed him?"

And that was the end of Randy's self-control. He landed ten swift blows to Sheamus' temple, momentarily disorienting him. The red-haired Irishman swooned and tumbled over, almost falling and catching himself on the coffee table. Randy hooked his hands like an ax and clubbed them into the base of Sheamus' spine, loving the way that he fell to his knees and writhed in pain. His hands clenched in the air as he tried to control himself.

Sheamus rolled onto his back and kicked out. His foot caught Randy's ankle and he went down, landing hard on the shoulder that he had broken in the motorcycle accident all those years ago. John flinched and went to intervene, but Randy shot him a look that told him it was best to keep his distance. In the five seconds it took for that interaction to take place, Sheamus hooked onto Randy's ankle and started to contort it awkwardly.

"Fine. You want me to admit that I raped him? I did. And he deserved every minute of it. He's such a whiney little bitch of an announcer, don't you think? Someone finally needed to shut… him… up." Sheamus hissed.

"You're sick." Randy hissed. He could barely breathe through the cloud of pain.

"I'm only sick because I acted when everyone else was too afraid to." Sheamus chuckled darkly.

And that's when John snapped. In the blink of an eye, he was over behind Sheamus and gripped Sheamus' hair firmly. "You twisted son-of-a-bitch. You deserve to rot."

"As if I want to be lectured by the Boy Scout." Sheamus rolled his hazel eyes.

"Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" John asked, his voice scarily level.

Sheamus made the mistake of turning his head around and John landed a swift blow to his nose. It busted and blood started to spurt everywhere. John yanked him hard and he released Randy's ankle with a shout. Distantly, he heard his boyfriend moan as he rolled over onto his side, desperately clutching his ankle and writhing in pain. John tackled him to the ground, the two rolling all over the scarcely carpeted floor and exchanging vicious blows.

And then Randy joined in. Suddenly back on his feet with his second wind, he started to stomp on every bit of flesh that became visible for more than a second at a time. Sheamus writhed in agony, pained beyond belief and desperately clutching to the edge of consciousness. However, before he could do so, Randy and John switched off. Randy took hold of Sheamus' ears, brought his head up, and dropped down so hard that he cracked his head again.

John took his boyfriend by the shoulder and finally pulled him off. "C'mon, Randy. Like I said, I don't want you to kill him. We have to find somewhere to wash this off." Both men were covered in Sheamus' blood.

Randy smirked when he noticed this. "Did I ever mention that you look damn hot when you lose control like that? I'm seriously turned on right now."

John couldn't help but return the sentiment. "Well, then. All the more reason to head back to the hotel and get washed up. And then, we can finish what we started yesterday."

Randy nodded. "I can't wait."

* * *

Finally, after several more tests, Ricardo was released into Alberto's care. He would need to have extensive after surgery care because of all of the injuries that he had sustained, which included but where not limited to lacerations on his arms and legs, a slightly bleeding rectum, and a few muscles tears. Also, the wound to his neck had been further aggravated. Alberto would have to be extremely careful with him.

Now, he stood beside his bed, waiting patiently for Ricardo to gather the courage to take his pants off. He knew that it was stressful, considering the fact that he _had_ been raped, so he didn't want to push him. But his tears in his rectum needed to be coated with an antibiotic cream to make sure that it wouldn't become infected. He knew that it embarrassed Ricardo, but he also knew that he needed to do it. He needed to reestablish that trust between them.

Ricardo squeezed his chocolate brown eyes closed and finally gathered the courage to tear them down in one swipe. It aggravated a few of his stitches, but none of them popped and (luckily) none of them bled. His underwear followed soon after. A dark blush on his face, he carefully hobbled over to the bed and lay down. Taking a breath to calm himself, he spread his legs and raised his hips a bit off of the bed.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, mi hermosa. I love you and I will never hurt you again." Alberto assured him softly. "And I want to take all of the necessary measures to make sure that you never have to think of what Sheamus did."

"I know, I know. It's just…" and here, Ricardo sniffled. Tears slowly started to streak down his face. "It hurt so much. All this time, I thought you didn't care about me. Now, you do and I'm damaged goods."

"You're not damaged goods, Ricardo. I love you, no matter what happens or happened in the past. Sheamus may have hurt you, but I don't look at you any differently because of that."

"Are you sure about that?" Ricardo asked worriedly. Tears still poured out of his eyes.

"I'm positive, mi amour. I never want to lose you again because of my own stupidity." Alberto assured him.

Carefully, Alberto applied the cream. After he had disposed of the gloves and washed his hands, he came back and tended to his stitches. With a heating pad on his stomach, Alberto covered him up and climbed into bed beside him, on top of the blankets. He wasn't sure if Ricardo would want him that close to him after what had happened with Sheamus. But Ricardo rolled over onto his side and moved the blankets over so that he could come underneath.

"Please, Alberto? Please?" Ricardo asked weakly.

Alberto nodded and kissed Alberto's forehead. "Of course, mi amour. Always."


	26. Two Weeks Later

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Het, Mpreg, Domestic Violence, Implied Non-Con, etc.

* * *

The doctor stared down at Christabel's little body. After several days, the bruises had started to wear off. Now, they left behind a yellowish tint to her otherwise mocha-colored skin. Her dark hair had filled in a bit more, her skin was a little less wrinkly, and for a little while, she had opened her eyes. Granted, it was only for a few minutes, but still… they were headed in the correct direction. But since then, she'd been stuck like this.

Her eyes were closed and her little hands were balled into fists. A thick IV cable was inserted into her arm – the cable was almost as thick as the tiny appendage, and it inserted a steady stream of pain medication to ensure that she would not suffer too terribly from her injuries. The concussion had faded, but an x-ray now showed that she had two broken ribs and that one of them may have punctured a lung. They had her on a respirator, just in case.

The doctor was at a loss for who could be so cruel as to _want_ to hurt a child like this. She hadn't even been born, hadn't committed a single act against anyone (except causing her mother mild discomfort from kicks), so why had she been the target of such a cruel act? And then, the doctor's mind wandered off to the mother. It was possible that the bloody mess that was Ricardo would be forever burned into her memory.

No, she couldn't think about this anymore. If she thought about it more, it would only lead to heartbreak. She had to disconnect herself from the case. This was just another baby, the innocent victim of a heinous crime. She had no real connection with Ricardo, so she shouldn't take this as such a personal blow either. It was just… another… case. Just… another… case. But somehow, it seemed like so much more.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Setting her clipboard and pen to the side, she answered it. "Hello?"

_"Doctor, there is a man at the front desk who claims to be Alberto Del Rio, Mr. Rodriguez's lover and the father of Christabel Rodriguez. He wants to know about the condition of the child."_ A nurse said monotonously.

The doctor nodded, but realized that the nurse couldn't see her and replied, "Of course. Tell him that I will be there in a few minutes." After she ended the call, she made her way out to the reception desk.

She didn't know much about Alberto Del Rio, only what she had heard about him while Ricardo talked in his sleep. Apparently, he had been the cause of most of Ricardo's heartbreak, but he wasn't the one who attacked him. She didn't know if Alberto was to be trusted or not, but the baby's blood work _did_ show that he was her father. He had a right to be informed about her case and all of the risk factors involved.

She didn't have to look too hard to find him. He stood in front of the desk, impatiently thrumming his fingers on the surface while the nurse returned to her game of solitaire. When he saw her, he immediately stood up straight and focused in on her face. Alberto looked incredibly tired, but also seemed to not mind the strain. She also noted with a pleasant smile that he now adorned a ring on his ring finger. So, he was married. But married to whom?

"Mr. Del Rio, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Regina Kelley, and I was the head surgeon in your lover's trauma, as well as the attending physician to your daughter, Christabel." Dr. Kelley said.

Alberto nodded plainly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. But I must correct you. He's not my _lover_, he's my husband." The smallest of smiles started to stretch across his face, but then it simmered down.

"Excuse me." Dr. Kelley recanted. "The nurse that paged me said that you were interested in the condition of the child. I am sure that you are aware that Mr. Rodriguez… excuse me, Mr. Del Rio was attacked?"

"Yes, very much aware." Alberto nodded ruefully. "We intend to seek out full legal ramifications."

"Of course. After such brutality, I would expect no less." Dr. Kelley empathized.

Alberto went straight to business. "Ricardo said that she was born via C-section."

"That is true. There was a lot of damage done to his lower back and it sent him into labor. We feared that if we waited, we could lose the baby. The C-section saved her life."

"What kind of condition is she in now?" Alberto asked.

Dr. Kelley opened Christabel's chart and started to read off the list of diagnosis, starting with the concussion that she had received from the kick to Ricardo's lower back. She did not leave any out, even if she had already healed from them. Had this been any other situation, the look on Alberto's face would have been considered comical. He was slack-jawed and his eyes wide as dinner plates. He looked less like an aristocrat and more like a circus freak.

"Is there any chance that she could recover from all of that?" Alberto asked, but the look in his eyes told her that he already knew the answer. The chances were slim to none.

"It's unlikely, but there have been miracles before, Mr. Del Rio. Why, it's a miracle that she's made it this long." Dr. Kelley said, a sad smile on her face. It was unfortunate that that was the truth.

Alberto looked at her stoically. "I don't believe in miracles."

"Then, what _do_ you believe in, Mr. Del Rio? You _have_ to believe in something. It's the way we survive."

Alberto looked her over once and choked out the words, "Destiny. I believe in destiny." And then, without looking back, he turned on his heel and walked out.

* * *

Sheamus had resisted the hospital with every fiber of his being, and like a fool, Evan had taken him at his word. Now, Evan stared down at the bloody remains of what used to be his boyfriend. Sheamus had died earlier that day. When Evan removed his shirt, he was surprised that Sheamus made it as long as he did. His stomach was covered in dark bruises, so dark that they indicated internal wounds. Fearfully, Evan tugged the shirt back down.

Tears streaking down his somber face, he fell forward and buried his face into Sheamus' cold chest. The man wouldn't breathe anymore. He wouldn't extend his arms and hold Evan when he was down or scared or just _hurting_ because the world was too big and he had always been too small. Sheamus understood him when nobody else did, so what gave Randy and John the right to just march in there and take him away from Evan?

Sullenly, Evan fell down onto the floor and fumbled underneath the bed for the weapon of his choosing. Sheamus was an avid hunter and he _knew_ that he kept his weapons underneath the bed – he always said it was in case some idiot tried to break into the house, but Evan knew that it was because he didn't want him to try his hands with a gun. Sheamus had killed men before, and if Evan's prints were on the gun, Evan could be blamed as well.

But now, Evan didn't care. In fact, he didn't care about much anymore. All he could see, all he could hear, all he could _think about_, was Randy and John beating his boyfriend until he just couldn't defend himself anymore. It wasn't fair, damn it! And now, the weight of the gun felt good in his hands. It felt right. Brandishing it like a wild man, he shot once and listened to the tinkling of glass as it shattered the nearby window.

Quickly, Evan turned back to Sheamus. He didn't know why, but he had almost expected Sheamus to rouse at the sound of one of his guns firing. He didn't. He just continued to lay there, arms crossed messily over his stomach in the throes of agony. His dark, stormy eyes were wide and fearful, and Evan couldn't bear to look into them any longer. Without any hesitation, he reached up and tenderly closed them.

"I'll kill those bastards, Sheamus. I'll make them eat lead. For every time that they ever put their hand on you, in the ring or out, I'll put a bullet into their body. And then, I'll die too. And we can be together. The way that it was always meant to be. Would you like that, Sheamus? Would you like that? I know that I sure would."

And with that, he stuffed all of the ammunition he could carry into a little satchel and stormed out of the house, a man on a mission.


	27. Pull the Trigger

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Het, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

"You went and saw her." Ricardo stated. He could read the blank look on Alberto's face, even if Alberto believed that he had maintained a flawless mask. He had _always_ been able to read Alberto.

"Yes, I did. But how did you know that? Never mind, I don't think that I want to know." Alberto rambled on. "Ricardo, you know that she's… she's not healthy. She's in an unbelievable amount of pain."

Ricardo looked down at his blanket, but Alberto didn't miss the heartbroken look in his eyes. "Yes, I know that. Even before… even before Randy and John came for me, I knew that she would die."

Alberto blinked and tried to contain his shock. "That she would die? When did I say that she would die?"

"You don't have to say it. I can see it on your face. And I can _feel_ it." Ricardo said.

"Okay, so there is a chance that she could die. But there's also a chance that she could live. We should believe -,"

"I don't want to build up my hopes and have them crushed, Alberto." Ricardo said sadly. "It's almost funny, really. I constantly worried about how to tell you about her, and when I finally did, she's about to die."

"We should believe in the best until we have reason to accept the worst." Alberto finished softly.

Unbidden, tears started to streak down his face. "You know, I never had a chance to hold her?"

"I'm sorry, mi hermosa. It's not fair, I know that. But think, there could be a day when you know what that feels like."

Ricardo looked at Alberto, raw honesty on his face. "I'm scared, Alberto."

"I know that you are. But I'm here for you, mi hermosa. Come here, it's okay… it's okay…"

Alberto sat down on the other side of the bed and opened his arms to Ricardo, who carefully shifted himself into Alberto's embrace. Most of his wounds had healed – his scars were mostly emotional – but a few of them, like the rectal tears, took longer to heal. He buried his face in the older man's chest and allowed him to carefully smooth a hand over his slick black locks. It felt nice and it served to sooth his frayed nerves.

Alberto muttered soothing words to him, carefully rocking him like he would their baby. When Ricardo just couldn't cry anymore, and his sore body could only be wracked by wave after wave of breathless sobs, Alberto continued to rock him. Breathing deeply, Alberto tried to keep his own feelings at bay. He had never seen Christabel, but he loved her all the same. He loved her because she was his and she was Ricardo's and that made her perfect.

Finally, when Ricardo had exhausted himself, Alberto laid him down onto the mattress and tucked him underneath the blanket. He kissed his forehead and rubbed his shoulder, which was the most contact that he had allowed himself in the last few days or so. They had all of the time in the world. There was no need to rush. Besides, he didn't want to scare Ricardo off by forcing himself on him too soon. Sex could wait.

His cell phone buzzed on the bedside table. Carefully, he untwined himself from around Ricardo and reached out to answer it. "Hello?"

_"Alberto? It's Rey. Sin Cara and I have been watching the video of Ricardo's attack and I think that we've finally been able to determine who it was that filmed it." _Rey said. There was a note of hesitation in his voice, but it was drowned in conviction.

Alberto swallowed hard. "Good. When do you want me to come over?"

_"As soon as you can."_ Rey answered.

Alberto turned to look at Ricardo, who slept fitfully without him. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

* * *

John frowned. This whole situation with AJ had been blown totally out of proportion and now Vicky had drawn Randy into the mix. John didn't understand _why_ Randy would believe one word out of that woman's mouth, but he had and now, Randy wouldn't even look at him. John didn't know what to do. It wasn't like he could convince the younger man that his intentions had been pure, because, really, he hadn't had any _intentions_ at all.

He raced down the halls, anxiously searching for the man of his dreams. He loved Randy and he wouldn't let that cougar-bitch come between Randy and himself. But he couldn't find him. He wasn't in any of the locker rooms, nor was he downstairs in catering. Terror rose in him and gripped him like a vice, frantically reminding him of the fact that Wade didn't like to lose and the last time that Wade had been alone with Randy, he'd thrown him down a flight of stairs.

Finally, he stormed out into the parking lot. And that's when he saw them. Randy leaned against the back of the car, his hands up in the air and his back to his assailant. John's heart clenched and his stomach churned, the terror he felt before nothing compared to what he felt now. Because the man behind Randy had a gun. He had a gun and it was pressed between Randy's shoulder blades, the metal cutting into his bare skin.

Randy shivered with the cold and John could see the traces of tears as they streaked down his face. The man was screaming at him, everything from profanities to promises that if he moved even an _inch_, he would shoot and Randy would die. John couldn't see who it was. Even if his face hadn't been concealed by a mask, it was too dark to make out anything other than a small body that trembled with anxiety.

"Randy!" John screamed, not being able to hold it back.

And suddenly, both looked up. John stared into his eyes and realized that he would know them anywhere. Those were the eyes of Evan Bourne.


	28. More Secrets

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Het, Mpreg, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

"What the hell is this, Evan?" John screamed at the smaller man. The firearm trembled in his small hand and Randy let out a low hiss that warned John to tread carefully.

"It's your fault! It's both of your damn faults! And I'll make you suffer for it! You'll never live it down! In fact, maybe you won't live at all!" Evan screamed so loudly that all of his words formed one incomprehensible word.

"Evan, you don't have to do this…" Randy said lowly, but trailed off when the firearm cut more firmly into the bare skin of his back. John worried he would have hypothermia before all of this was over.

"Shut your fucking mouths, both of you! I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses. You killed Sheamus and know I'm gonna kill you." Evan threatened as he removed the safety.

John swallowed hard as confusion made its way onto his handsome face. "I don't understand, Evan. We didn't kill Sheamus. I _swear_. I had to remove Randy before he did, but he was still alive when we left."

Evan shook his head. His hand trembled and he clutched the firearm until his knuckles turned a pasty white with the excursion. "Of course he was. Of course. He died _because_ of what you did to him. Not immediately, no. He suffered."

"That bastard deserved to suffer for what he did to Ricardo." Randy muttered under his breath. A tense silence followed.

"I thought I told you to shut your fucking mouth!" Evan screamed before he hit Randy on the back of the head with the icy metal in his hands. Randy buckled forward and went out immediately.

A tremor of terror filled John as he watched Evan eye Randy's unconscious body almost affectionately, like he wanted to marry him and then kill him softly, slowly… maybe asphyxiate him with the pillow? And then John shook his head. No, he couldn't think like that. Randy would survive until the day that _he_ could call the Viper his husband – he would make sure that death was not his first and only spouse. Slowly, he started to move toward Evan.

Evan circled around Randy's body and eyed the crack in the back of his head with a skeptical eye. Blood slowly trickled from the wound, ran down his neck, and stained the beautiful artwork on his shoulders. Deciding that the wound wasn't painful enough as it was, he took the butt of the pistol and slammed it into the crack. Randy's entire body jerked and he let out a cry, suddenly startled back into consciousness. He held onto his head instinctively and felt the blood there.

John saw red, and it wasn't just Randy's blood. He came up behind Evan and hooked an arm around his neck, hooking him down over the hood of the car in a move that sort-of resembled Randy's backbreaker. Evan let out a startled cry as the weapon discharged into the air, the _pop_ following it leaving a hole in the awkward silence that had formed. The gun fell out of his hands. Evan looked on sadly, but the emotion left his eyes almost immediately as he landed a low-blow on Cena.

Frantically, the smaller man dropped to his knees and retrieved his gun, firing two times at John's right elbow. The first time, the bullet only grazed the skin. It left a faint burn behind, but nothing too terrible. The second one, however, caught him right in the fleshy part between his two arms and he let out a startled cry as he looked down and saw blood gushing from the wound. That was all the distraction Evan needed. He charged at John and knocked him over easily.

John held his one hand up in defense, but knew that it wouldn't do much good against a gun. "C'mon, Evan. What is this? You know that we're not the enemy here. We don't want to hurt you. Sheamus… he…"

Evan had tears on his cute face. Hurriedly, he wiped them away on the back of his sweater sleeve. "Don't you _dare_ say anything bad about Sheamus. He loved me. He loved me more than _anything_."

"He used you, Evan. You were a convenient cover." John broke the news to him sadly.

Evan broke down fully then, not wanting to believe it. "No. You're just.. You're just a liar and a thief. You stole his life. Now he'll never see… Now he'll never see his baby."

John's eyes widened. "Evan, you're not…"

"What do you care?" Evan screamed in his face. "And what does it matter anyhow? He used me."

"Evan, I know that this is hard to believe, but Sheamus _hurt_ Ricardo. He could have killed him and he most likely killed his daughter. Try to put yourself in his position. Is Sheamus such a hero now?" John asked.

Evan just looked down at his hands, which were covered in Randy's blood. "I don't know what to believe."

"Go with what your heart says, kid." John assured him.

"My heart says that I should kill you. A life for a life."

John blanched and hurriedly shook his head. "Who listens to their heart anyhow? The brain is always more reliable."

But the true, reasonable Evan hadn't stuck around to hear the rest. Slowly, he sauntered up to John and put the gun up to his forehead. Randy watched in horror as John's eyes slid closed, resigned to the fact that there was nothing that could be done to stop Evan's tirade and at least, this way, he had taken Randy's punishment for him and Randy could live. Evan's finger tightened on the trigger and pulled once, twice… nothing happened. Evan cursed fluently.

He threw the gun on the ground and kicked it a few times, before he raced over to his car, started it, and drove off into the night. Maybe he was off to get another gun, or maybe he had given up on the operation entirely. Neither man could know for sure. But John _did_ know that Randy had a serious head injury that needed to be looked at. So he carefully climbed to his feet, doing his best to conceal the rotten condition of his elbow, and went to find his lover.


	29. The Identity of the Camera Man

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Het, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Alberto arrived at the aforementioned hotel room a few minutes later. Not that he would ever admit to it aloud, but he was afraid of what he would learn. He _wanted_ that name, there was no doubt about that. But once he _had_ that name, he couldn't swear that he wouldn't take that information, hunt that man down, and kill him. Anyone that could record a video of someone as they were abused so terribly was a demented monster that deserved to rot.

He hadn't wanted to leave Ricardo alone. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ricardo – he didn't trust everyone else. To ensure that he was as safe as he could be, he bought Ricardo a disposable cell phone and, if need be, had left his most prized possession underneath Ricardo's pillow. It was the gun that his father had bought him for his eighteenth birthday. He had even showed Ricardo how to fire it. In reality, Ricardo was as safe as he could ever hope to be.

After another minute or two of hesitation, Alberto took out the key that Sin Cara had left for him and swiped it. The door unlocked and he hurried inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. For one, the WWE Roster weren't the only occupants of the hotel and he knew that Vince McMahon would chew him out if he broke kayfabe in front of the fans. But it was also because, like he mentioned earlier, he didn't trust _anyone_. Nobody needed to know about this.

Rey walked over to him, a shadowed look on his unmasked face. He held the video camera in his hand. "You're here." It was said with a note of surprise, but all three of them knew that it didn't need to be there.

"You doubted that I would be?" Alberto raised an eyebrow. "Listen, I know that I'm not the nicest man in the world. But this is Ricardo. This is my _husband_. He's not a trained wrestler. He was a pregnant ring announcer."

Rey nodded sadly. "It was incredibly difficult to watch this video, Alberto. It's just… It's just so hard to believe that someone could be so cruel to someone who had never hurt them before… outside of the ring, I mean."

"We had to watch the video several times, but we were finally able to pick up a third voice. At first, we just thought that it was background noise. But then, we realized that it was the camera man." Sin Cara whispered.

Rey could tell that his protégée was getting extremely upset at that point, so he continued on for him. "Throughout the video, Sheamus and the camera man were giving and receiving instructions. It's incredibly sick and demented."

Alberto started to grit his teeth. Both men could see that he was about to murder someone. "What. Is. His. Name?"

Rey gathered what little courage he could (that hadn't turned to pure ice) and took a step toward him. "Alberto…"

"WHAT. IS. HIS. NAME?" Alberto screamed until his throat was raw. He needed the bastard's name. _Now._

"Wade Barrett." Rey squeaked out.

Red bled before Alberto's eyes. Wade Barrett. _Wade Barrett._ It was understandable, but at the same time, it made no sense. As a brawler, it would make sense that he would carry around a Swiss Army knife. After all, when was the last time that Wade played fair? One slash of that blade and a man's life could be over. But then, Sheamus and Wade hated each other. No, it was more than hate. It was _loathing_. Wade would rather die than team with Sheamus.

Alberto yanked the video camera out of Rey's hand and played back the video, disgusted with himself when he couldn't tear his eyes away from the carnage. It was like a train wreck – horrific, but you just couldn't force yourself to look away. And that's when he heard the noise, the noise that Sin Cara had so aptly described as 'background noise'. A few more minutes into the video, he was able to clearly decipher a distinct British accent. So, it was true.

Alberto threw the camera onto the table and it rolled for a little while. Before it could roll directly off of the table, Rey dove for it and caught it in his hands. By that time, Alberto had already turned on his heel and had started to storm toward the locked door. This time, it was Sin Cara who took that leap of faith and wrapped his hand around Alberto's shoulder. From the look of utter murder in his eyes, Sin Cara was sure that, if he didn't back off, he could die.

"Alberto," he said softly. "I know that you're upset right now. But killing Wade won't take back what happened. Let the law handle Wade." His accent got even thicker the more upset he became. "Sheamus has already paid that price."

This calmed Alberto down somewhat. "What do you mean?"

"Randy beat Sheamus so badly that he obtained several internal injuries. He bled out on the inside."

"Remind me to pat Randy on the back and let him land the first punch next time." Alberto rolled his eyes. "Sheamus deserved a lot more than a few ulcers. He deserved to _burn_."

Rey was next to intervene. "This is exactly why we cannot let you be alone with Wade."

"You'd massacre him." Sin Cara finished for him.

"Yeah, well maybe he deserved to be massacred. Have any of you actually taken the time to think of what Ricardo feels right now? He feels so alone. He feels abused, neglected, unimportant, unloved. All because of _them_."

"And you think that killing Wade will make that any better? If anything, it will just make Ricardo feel ten times worse. If you go to jail because you kill Wade, he'll be all alone. He won't have Christabel -," Alberto cut Rey off.

"Don't mention her name." Alberto hissed darkly. "Don't you _ever_ mention her name!" This time, it was a scream.

He broke down then. A few tears leaked from his eyes as he started to pace madly about the room, but nobody had the gall to mention them. Not only were they afraid about what Alberto would do to _them_, but they were also afraid about what would happen to Wade. Finally, Alberto froze and reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. He would call Ricardo. He would call Ricardo and he would ask him what _he_ wanted to have done.

It took a few minutes for the younger man to answer and, not like he would admit to it aloud, that scared Alberto. But finally, Ricardo answered. He sniffled and yawned and Alberto had a sinking feeling that he had been crying in his sleep. It wouldn't be the first time and he doubted that it would be the last. Alberto waited a few minutes until Ricardo was fully awake, and once he was, he told him the news.

"I am over at Sin Cara and Rey's hotel room. They've watched the video, mi hermosa, and they believe that they know who recorded the video." Ricardo had never seen the camera man either.

_"Oh? Who was it?"_ Ricardo's words slurred together to form one long word, but Alberto understood what he meant. He also picked up on the little tremor at the end that made him question if Ricardo really _did_ want to know.

"Wade Barrett." Alberto hissed. "It doesn't surprise me, not really. But that is not the reason that I called. I called to ask what you wanted me to do about it. You were the one that was hurt. You're the one that needs closure."

_"What _I_ want you to do about it?"_ Ricardo sounded confused now_. "I would have thought that you would have killed him by now."_

Alberto smiled sheepishly. His love knew him so well. "I cannot lie to you, mi hermosa. The idea _did_ cross my mind. However, these two buffoons here won't let me. But I'm sure that you can think up a suitable punishment."

Ricardo was silent for a moment as he thought. _"I want to see him."_

"What?" Alberto's eyes bulged unnaturally. "No. No, I won't allow it."

Ricardo's voice was unnaturally calm. _"This is the only way that I can receive closure, Alberto. And with Sheamus dead, and you in the room with me, he can't hurt me anymore."_

Alberto finally relented when he heard the desperate lilt in Ricardo's voice. "Fine. But I will be there at all times, and if he so much as _looks_ at you the wrong way, I will _throttle_ him."

_"Thank you, mi amour. You don't know how much this means to me."_

"Yes, I think that I do." Alberto added sadly. "Rest now. I'll see you soon."

When his call ended, he turned back to the other two men in the room. He stared at his phone in disbelief for a few seconds, before his eyes rose and met two equally confused sets of eyes. "What seems to be the consensus?"

"He wants to see him." Alberto announced slowly, solemnly. "He wants to see Wade Barrett."


	30. The Talk With Wade

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** Slash, Het, Violence, Non-Con, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Alberto would never understand what had inclined Ricardo to demand that he see Wade face-to-face. It made him extremely uncomfortable because, ever since Wade had come back from his shoulder injury, he had made it extremely clear that he was a man with a mission. It didn't matter who he had to hurt to obtain that. And Alberto was inclined to believe that he had done this to not only hurt Ricardo, but to cheat Alberto out of the World Title.

While many wouldn't believe it, Alberto _did_ love Ricardo. No matter how many times he told him not to interfere with his matches, that he was a trained wrestler and Ricardo wasn't, Ricardo had to continue to poke the bear. And now that Ricardo was out of commission, Wade believed himself to be safe. Alberto almost laughed. What a crock of bull that was! If anything, Alberto was now more aware of Wade than ever. Wade had crossed the line.

Now, after the PPV, Alberto stormed around the locker room in search of Wade Barrett. Really, it wasn't all that difficult for him to locate the arrogant Brit. He sat on the bench in the corner, his boy-toy, Justin Gabriel, curled in his lap. Alberto didn't hold back. He stormed over to the bench, took hold of Wade's sweat-slicked hair, and slammed his head back into the lockers. When he released him, a sizeable dent was left in his wake.

"Bloody hell, mate. What the hell did I do to you?" Wade sniveled. Alberto didn't like the twisted look on his face. He was barely able to hold back the need to mangle that face until it was unrecognizable.

"Oh, you didn't do anything to me. Not directly, anyhow. But I'm not here on my behalf. You see, you hurt someone very important to me. And if it were up to me, you would be _dead_ now. But for some reason, he wants you alive."

Wade blinked dumbly. "Huh, that's funny. For a second there, I thought you said that I hurt somebody 'very important' to you. You're a cold-blooded bastard that doesn't care about anybody but himself."

Alberto's eyes flashed with an unidentifiable emotion. "He wants you _alive_. But I'm sure he wouldn't object if a few… bits and pieces were missing." Alberto smiled darkly. "You're the cold-blooded bastard here, Wade. Not me."

Justin tensed and Wade's fingers pulled a little at his shaggy black hair. "Wade…" Justin trailed off concernedly.

"Justin, take our stuff out to the car. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." Wade assured, but he couldn't say for sure.

Justin hesitated, but he finally did as Wade had said. "It is in your best interest to come with me now. If you don't come willingly, I am fully inclined to using as much force as necessary." And if force _wasn't_ necessary, well…

Wade smirked masochistically. His eyes gleamed with a demented pleasure. "I'm not going anywhere, mate. I don't know who you think that you are, but I don't have to listen to a damn word that you say -,"

Alberto didn't hold back this time. He took Wade by the hair and bashed his head into the metal ridges of the locker. His fury was unbridled and he refused to let the shouts and warnings abate any of his anger. That anger was the glue that held him together. If he were to be totally honest with himself, it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down at the thought of losing Christabel. Anger was the only thing that he had left.

He continued his ministrations until warm blood gushed over his bruised fingers. Immediately, he released the dazed Brit's head, disgusted with the red substance that flowed freely from the back of his crushed skull. Maybe he had been a bit overdramatic with it all, but he didn't care. Wade deserved every bloody fucking moment of it. Biting down on his bottom lip until he tasted coppery blood, he watched as Wade fell lifelessly onto the bench.

About that time, David Otunga rounded the corner. The poor ambulance chaser smelled blood and he knew that he had a potential lawsuit on his hands. "What happened here?"

"Nothing that I can't handle. I need you to do me a favor, though." David shot him a look that screamed 'anything, for a price'. "I need you to help me carry him to the car. Ricardo wants to see him."

"Doesn't that imply that Ricardo wanted to see him… you know, alive?" David asked sarcastically, one eyebrow raised.

"I took a few liberties. It's not like he's dead." Alberto shrugged listlessly. "Now, are you gonna help me or not?"

David sighed. "Off the record?"

"It won't be if we wait too much longer and his little boy-toy Justin comes back." Alberto warned.

David licked his lips nervously. "Fine. We'll do it your way." He took a towel and covered Wade's bleeding head in it, trying to conceal the evidence and doing a shitty job of it. "But if this goes downhill…"

"It was all my idea, I know. Now help me carry him to the car."

David fell silent after that, too nervous to say much of anything. They carried him out to Alberto's expensive, imported car. Inside, he had already lined the backseat with trash bags and towels for just such an occasion. Blood was so hard to wash out of leather seats, after all. Both men set Wade inside, the Brit groaning as his head was jostled and he lost even more blood. All of the color drained out of Otunga's face and he ran off to wash the blood from his hands.

Alberto shook his head, but nevertheless, he had the smallest of smiles on his face. He called Ricardo. "I have Wade in the car now. We'll be at the hotel in fifteen minutes, okay?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Ricardo asked skeptically, _"How badly did you hurt him, Alberto? He's not dead, is he?"_

Alberto's small smile turned into a full-blown masochistic smirk as he looked into the backseat proudly. "No, he's not dead, mi hermosa. Far from it."

Ricardo sighed. _"Fifteen minutes?"_

"Fifteen minutes." Alberto assured, before he ended the call.

* * *

Ricardo had been in bed when Alberto had called. Now, he walked around the room anxiously. He had started to doubt the integrity of his own intentions and he had to call into question the fact that he might, just might, want to kill Wade himself. When he looked out the window of the hotel room that he shared with Alberto, he could see the headlights of Alberto's newest ride shine brilliantly in the darkness. Fifteen minutes had felt like fifteen seconds.

Ricardo took a seat at the end of the bed and took several breaths to try and calm himself. It didn't work. His heart hammered madly in his chest and he felt like, at any moment, it might explode. Finally, he heard the telltale click of the door unlocking and Alberto stumbled inside with what looked like a large, industrial strength trash bag in hand. Confused, Ricardo made to stand, but Alberto waved to him to remain seated.

Disgusted at how much strength he had needed to exert to lift the damn thing over three flights of stairs, because the elevator was too suspicious, he threw the body – which, as it turned out, was wrapped in a towel, not a trash bag – onto the floor and kicked it a few times to stir him into consciousness. Wade spluttered a few times, before he weakly tried to crawl away from the person that was inflicting more pain onto his already battered body.

"That's _enough_, Alberto." Ricardo spoke calmly, but there was an air of finality around his words that dared Alberto to defy them. He wanted Wade alive and with enough power to still speak.

Alberto backed off almost immediately. "I hope that you realize that I'm not about to leave you alone with this bastard, Ricardo. He may be weak, but he isn't lame. He could still hurt you."

Ricardo met his eyes. Ricardo's own eyes were a blank, lifeless chocolate brown. It hurt to stare into their depths for too long. "And I hope you realize that I'm not the same as I used to be. I can take care of myself."

His words bit Alberto to the core, even if he knew them to be the absolute truth. Ever since Ricardo had been attacked by Sheamus, it was like he was an entirely different man. Alberto wasn't sure if he liked this new man, however. He was distant, not the same naïve, innocent little boy that Alberto had taken under his wing. And Alberto new that, secretly, he would always miss that about him. But, at the same time, he could learn to accept him like this as well.

"Fine. I'm gonna head downstairs and grab a cup of coffee. I'll be back in a half hour. You should be done with him by then." Alberto said, before he vanished down the hall.

Now, it was just the two of them. Ricardo finally rose and walked around Wade's body, waiting for him to stand up. "What? Can't stand up, Wade? C'mon, I know that you can do it. Stand up and show me what you're made of."

Wade coughed and spluttered blood all over his hand.

"Or are you too weak? You're a useless sack of skin and bones. You aren't good for anything but a quick fuck. Sound familiar, Wade? Those were your exact words to me while Sheamus _raped_ me and killed my baby."

Wade wheezed, spluttering. He rolled over onto his side and continued to cough.

Ricardo tangled his fingers in Wade's slick black hair and yanked his head back. "You're pathetic."

"N-No, _I'm_ not the p-pathetic o-one." Wade gargled. His eyes had lost their usual masochistic luster and instead he just looked used, wasted. "Y-You think that this w-will ma-make any difference?"

"No." Ricardo bit off sharply. "I know that it won't make any difference. I just want to know one thing. And I'd be careful how I answered, if I were you. One scream, and Alberto out there… well, he'll kill you."

Wade swallowed hard and choked on the air, unable to believe that this was the same naïve ring announcer that had selflessly thrown himself in front of Sheamus' Brogue Kick for Alberto. "W-What would t-that be?"

"I want you to tell me why you did it." Ricardo said.

Wade blinked dumbly. "You want to k-know _why_?"

"I don't believe that I stuttered."

"Why?" That smile returned, only this time, it was coated in crimson red blood. "Because you're a sorry bitch that doesn't deserve happiness. You _let_ Sheamus have you because you _wanted_ it. Alberto just couldn't get it done for you. You know it, I know it, so just admit it. You're a sorry slut and you want… no, you _need_ more."

Thankfully, Alberto chose that moment to return to the hotel room. The half-hour time slot was up. Ricardo had never been more thankful. Alberto took Wade by the arm and threw him out into the hallway, where Justin would eventually find him and take him back to the hotel room. He wasn't injured so terribly that he would die from it, but he would be sore for awhile and most likely wouldn't be able to compete for a few weeks.

Once Wade was out in the hallway, Alberto slammed the door closed and turned to Ricardo. Instantly, he took the smaller man into his arms and held him tightly to his chest. Finally, Ricardo allowed the tears to fall. He knew what Wade had said was a lie. But still, the words cut him like a knife. And he hated to think that Alberto thought he was a slut that wanted what had happened to him. Finally, he decided that he had to ask…

"You don't… You don't think that I wanted this, do you? You don't think that… I asked for Sheamus to hurt me?" Ricardo asked weakly, almost afraid of the answer.

Alberto looked at him, astonished. And then, leaning down, he peppered his face with kisses. "No, mi hermosa, no. How could you ever think that I would think that way? No matter what that bastard told you, this isn't your fault. Do you understand?"

Ricardo sniffled and nodded. "Yes. I understand."


	31. Christabel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Het, Violence, Cruelty, Non-Con, Mpreg, etc.

* * *

Ricardo leaned back in Alberto's arms and tilted his head so that he could see the older man's face. While Alberto would never admit it, Ricardo was certain that he saw tears there. "Alberto?"

"What is it, mi hermosa?" Alberto asked, his voice incredibly soft as he stroked Ricardo's black locks. He seemed to be off in his own little world, not really there with Ricardo in his arms. It made Ricardo anxious.

"I know that you said that I shouldn't… that it would be counterproductive to all of the progress that I've made… but… I want to see her. No, I _need_ to see her." Ricardo said firmly. "I want to see Christabel."

Slowly, Alberto blinked away his shock. "You can't be serious, mi hermosa. Think of the effect that it could have on your health! Her condition deteriorates every hour and -,"

Ricardo interjected. "I know that, Alberto. I know. And I want to see her anyway. I want to hold her for the first and last time. Can't you allow me that?" Tears fell from his eyes, but the confidence there was untouchable.

Alberto swallowed hard and nodded. There was no use arguing with Ricardo when he was in this kind of a mood. "Fine. Get dressed and we'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"Really?" The tears dried and a wide smile blossomed on his face. It lit his eyes and made him seem younger. "Thank you!"

"I just hope that you're not making a horrible mistake." Alberto whispered, mostly to himself. Ricardo didn't hear him.

Ricardo tore around the small hotel suite in search of his clothes. He _was_ dressed, but only in the pajamas that he had lazed around in ever since Alberto had taken him back and locked him in this square prison. Not that he really minded being under lock and key all the time. If he were to be totally honest with himself, it made him feel safe. Safe and loved. But sometimes, a breath of fresh air was needed to remind someone of what they already had.

Once he found a pair of loose jeans and a white, turtleneck sweater, he took off his pajamas and tossed them onto the bed. Sliding into a fresh pair of boxer shorts, he dressed with a hopeful smile on his face. Maybe it wasn't as bad as Alberto made it out to be. After all, Christabel was still alive, wasn't she? That had to count for _something_. Suddenly anxious, he rushed into the bathroom and combed out his tousled hair. If this was the only time he ever saw her, it would be perfect.

And when he came back out to stand before Alberto, to tell him that he was ready to leave, he found the older man with a distant look in his chocolate brown eyes. He shifted the keys from one hand to the other, unable to commit to one side. Ricardo, concerned, reached out for him. Alberto shrugged the hand off offhandedly, before he stuffed the keys into his pocket and started out the door. With a sudden sinking in his stomach, Ricardo followed closely behind.

* * *

Randy, luckily, had not been hurt too badly. The wound to the back of his head had been stitched up and, remarkably, he passed his concussion test without difficulty. A week later, the stitches had been taken out and he had been cleared to compete. John was a little uncomfortable with it, but it wasn't like he could tell Randy that. After all, since the incident with Evan, Randy had barely said two words to him. And John knew why.

It wasn't a secret that AJ wasn't well-liked in either locker room. She had been a decent GM to those who had never crossed her, but she _was_ mentally unstable and she _did_ have a tendency to throw a temper-tantrum when she didn't have her way. The fact that John was stuck in a storyline with her was bad. What was worse? The fact that he was stuck in a storyline with her where _physical contact_ was involved. When AJ had kissed him a second time, John knew he was dead.

Silently, he thanked Randy's mother for raising him with the strict belief to never raise your hand to a woman. If it hadn't been for that, AJ would have been little more than a memory. But that didn't mean that Randy had lost the battle. Oh, no. Not by a long shot. The battle waged on between them – John attempting to talk to Randy, Randy slamming doors in his face, John sleeping on the couch, Randy only making one cup of coffee in the morning, etc.

Finally, John couldn't take it anymore. "Randy, we need to talk."

Randy looked up from the sports section of the newspaper, swished the coffee around in his cup, and then turned his attention back to the print. "Do we? I didn't know that we had anything to discuss."

"Well, we do. It's about your ass-like behavior every since I've been put into this storyline with AJ." Randy tensed. Okay, maybe it wasn't the _best_ idea to start out on the defensive. "It wasn't my fault, Ran."

Randy downed the last bit of coffee and rose off of the couch to fetch himself some more. "You think that I actually _care_ whether it was your fault or not? You went out there and _kissed_ her. And then, you let _her_ kiss _you_."

For once, Randy's possessive tendencies had become just a tad annoying. "It's storyline!"

"If you mean to tell me that that second kiss was storyline, then your bullshitting both of us." Randy hissed.

"Damn it, Randy! Would you listen to me for _once_?" John yelled, slamming his fist down onto the counter.

"You need to calm down, John." Randy told him dispassionately. The look in his eyes told that he really didn't care. "I'm not going to talk to a raging idiot."

It took all of John's control not to sail across the counter and throttle the taller man, force him to see reason. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Would you just listen to me? Just let me have five minutes to explain…"

Randy shot him a cursory look. "No."

That small, seemingly insignificant look was enough to light John's already short fuse. In a movement similar to Randy's power slam, he scooped Randy up off of the floor and took him down onto the carpet. Breathing heavily, he took a seat on the man's stomach and refused to move, even as Randy started to shift about anxiously. His eyes were blown with pain and lust and his movements weren't really intended to buck John off. Finally, he just gave up entirely.

John offered him a small little smile, praising him for his lackluster efforts. Both men knew that if Randy really wanted John off of him, John would be halfway across the room, on his feet, running for his life. It was that way with Randy. He didn't do things halfway. And now, as John stared down at Randy's handsome face, he noticed for the first time that his eyes were swollen and red. Had he… Had he _cried_ over this? No, that couldn't be. But it was the truth.

"John…" Randy trailed off, wondering if the older man would make his point soon.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never… I never knew that it had upset you this badly." John said.

Randy forced a rueful smile. "Yeah, well, we can't be emotionless, masochistic Vipers all the time, can we?"

John returned the smile, gently stroking Randy's cheek. "If you let me, I can make you feel better. But only if you're ready to accept the fact that I still love you and baby, I don't plan on going _anywhere_."

Randy nodded, swallowed hard, and smiled fully. "I think that I would like that." And then, John leaned down, fingers hooking into the waistband of Randy's pajama bottoms, as he set out to show his baby just who he belonged to.

* * *

"It can't hurt now, I suppose." The doctor smiled sadly as she walked over to the little incubator and started to disconnect all the wires, per Alberto Del Rio's request. "Take a seat in that EZ-Chair over there."

Ricardo did. A few seconds later, the doctor came over with a tiny infant in her arms. The baby had creamy mocha skin and the most adorable chocolate brown eyes. All of the bruises on her little body had faded, but it was still incredibly difficult for her to breathe without the oxygen mask on. Alberto had asked for that to be taken off as well. Ricardo had meant what he said when he said 'the first and last time'. _This_ was for closure.

The doctor left them alone and Alberto slid into the shadows, just watching as Ricardo held her and sang to her. She made soft, incomprehensible baby sounds, but from the little smile on her lips, he could tell that she liked the sound of her Mommy's voice. And when her eyes became too heavy for her to hold open anymore, Ricardo continued to sing to her. Tears streaked down both men's faces as they watched their angel fall from grace.

It was a beautiful, tear-inducing moment. Ricardo could _feel_ the life leaving her, but still he continued to tell her that it was okay, it was alright, there was no reason to be afraid. And then, abruptly, he fell silent. The rocking and the singing stopped and Alberto was left with a sickening feeling in his stomach, knowing why Ricardo was now sobbing as he looked down at the beautiful face of their firstborn daughter. Even so, he didn't want to believe the words out of Ricardo's mouth.

Ricardo shivered and let out a choked sob. "She's… She's gone."


	32. One Perfect Moment

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Violence, Cruelty, Non-Con, etc.

* * *

Ricardo sat so still in that moment that Alberto feared that he had lost his husband as well. But then, the first tear fell from his chocolate brown eyes. His face fell as realization hit him hard. "Christabel!"

"Shh…" Alberto took the smaller man into his arms and held both of them in his love. "Shh, mi hermosa. Christabel is safe now. She's safe from the hands of those who could hurt her. She's in heaven now, baby."

Ricardo sobbed, unable to look away from the serene little body that still rested in his arms. "I did the best that I could with her. I tried so hard. But in the end, I still lost her. What did I do? _What did I do?"_

Alberto shook his head. "No, baby, no. None of this is your fault, that I swear. This is the fault of Sheamus and Wade Barrett. Sheamus has already paid for his crimes, but Wade -,"

"I want Wade alive." Ricardo cut him off. "I want Justin to look at him every day and know the monster that he is. I want him to be cut off from his kids. I wanted him to die, alone and unloved, for what he did. In his own time."

Alberto forced a smile, if only for Ricardo. "She deserved so much better than this, but I am _certain_ that she knows that you loved her. Who could doubt that you loved her more than life itself?"

"How can she know that I love her now that she's dead? I just… if she would just look at me one last time, and I could tell her one more time that I loved her…" Ricardo trailed off as he broke down into sobs.

Tears fell from his cheeks and landed on Christabel's little body. His dark eyes fell closed and he looked away, unable to stare at the little baby anymore. If he did, he was afraid that he would break down so far that there was absolutely no way that he would be able to climb back up to the shaky stability that he had once held. Alberto stood behind him and pulled his head into his chest, his warm hands there to brush away the tears. It was a silent comfort to him.

At first, neither man noticed when Christabel's eyes slowly fluttered. Her sweet, coal lashes seemed to be sealed together with her mother's tears, but she forced her chocolate eyes open and allowed them to wander back and forth nervously. And then, when she felt more than heard her mother's brokenhearted sob, she returned with one of her own. It was kind of broken and disjointed because her lungs were not fully developed, but it was there nonetheless.

Ricardo, startled, allowed his eyes to flash open and he looked down into his arms. He fought a breathless sob of relief was he watched Christabel suck in air for the first time without life support. As soon as his sobs stopped, Christabel's stopped as well. She looked at him adoringly, as if he had been with her the entire time. For the first time, as he stared into her chocolate brown eyes, he felt as if, maybe, it _wasn't_ his fault. Maybe he _wasn't_ to blame for what happened.

"Alberto?" Ricardo whispered softly, almost as if he was afraid that, if he spoke too loud, she would disappear. She would leave again and that would just break him completely.

"What is it, mi hermosa?" Alberto asked, just as softly. But then, he saw it. Christabel started to move in Ricardo's arms and his heart swelled with pride. His baby was still alive.

"Do you… do you know what happened?" Ricardo asked in disbelief.

Alberto shook his head, still in wonder of the marvel himself. "I don't know what happened. It's a miracle from God, that's what it is. Mi hermosa, she's safe and she's ours. But we should have the doctor look over her, just in case."

"Can't I just hold her for one more minute? Just one more?" Ricardo asked.

How could Alberto deny him that? And do, he nodded. "One more minute. One more perfect minute."


	33. The Killer

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Violence, Cruelty, Non-Con, etc.

* * *

Evan sat in front of the mirror and stared at his horrifically unfamiliar reflection in the mirror. In his arms, he clutched the teddy bear that Sheamus had won for him at the county fair. The dark, chocolate brown fur contrasted with his creamy white skin, which now looked all the more ethereal with the way that he had handled himself lately. The revolver sat on the vanity in front of him. It was a silent reminder of what he had to do, what had to be done.

Evan closed his eyes and slowly rocked back and forth, his hand subconsciously stroking the soft, downy fur of the chocolate brown teddy bear. What if what John had said was true? What if Sheamus really _had_ intended to hurt Ricardo? As much as he didn't want to think about that, it certainly was a possibility. And if Sheamus was capable of that, did that mean that he could've hurt Evan as well? Evan shook his head. No. He couldn't think like that.

He leaned forward, wincing as the old rocker creaked beneath him. Setting the teddy bear down, he exchanged it for the revolver. Reverently, he twisted the chamber around a few times. The metallic twist made him smile masochistically. It shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't have to head out into the world and face it on his own. That wasn't his fault and it _certainly_ wasn't Sheamus'. It wasn't like he _asked_ to be murdered.

Now, he knew what he had do to. He slid the rocker back and slid the revolver into the back of his jeans. It was almost dusk now, and if he set out on the road soon, he could be at the hotel before midnight. The masochistic smile morphed into one with clear murderous intent. This time, there would be no second chances. He may have made a mistake the first time, but he was a child then. Now, he was a man. And it was time to take care of a man's business.

* * *

"Leave me the fuck alone!" Justin screamed. He thrust the last of Wade's belongings into the hallway, before he slammed the door to their hotel room closed in the older man's face. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

Wade sighed, placing his head on the cold wooden door. "C'mon, Angel. Don't be like this. It's late and I want to sleep. Can't we talk about this in the morning?" There was no answer. "Justin? Angel?"

"I told you to leave me the fuck alone! We're done!" Justin screamed himself hoarse. And then, breaking down into a fit of sobs, he slid down the door and cried.

"Angel, I'm sorry. Whatever it is that I 'ave done, I'm sorry. If we could just talk about this…" Wade trailed off when a blunt, heavy object flew at the door. It rattled unsettlingly and Wade took a few steps back.

"If you don't leave now, I swear to God I'll call hotel security on your ass! Leave me the _fuck_ alone!" A door further off in the hotel room slammed closed and Wade knew that the conversation was officially over.

Wade stood there for a few minutes, disbelief etched clearly on his face. While he had never felt much more than lust toward Justin, he knew that the South African was absolutely enamored with him. It was almost disappointing, having all of that fly out of the window because of one unimportant announcer. What he had done, it wasn't all that bad. At least, not compared to the shit that Sheamus had pulled. _He_ was one sick bastard.

Slowly, he started to collect all of his stuff and piled it into the one suitcase that Justin had bothered to throw out. He had three outfits, his ring gear, and some basic shower supplies. No money, not that that really mattered. He didn't carry too much cash on him anyhow. He zipped the suitcase closed and rolled it down the hall behind him. He could always room with Heath, Jinder, and Drew. But he would never make it that far.

Halfway down the hall, he felt the cool metal of a revolver press to the back of his head. He tensed, an uncomfortable tremor of dread shooting down his spine. All of a sudden, all other sounds faded into the distance. The sounds that became prevalent were his own breathing, the somewhat erratic breathing of his attacker, and the metallic _clink_ as the finger clenched and relaxed around the trigger. Wade swallowed hard.

"What -," but he didn't have a chance to finish whatever it was that he had intended to say.

"You're time is up, Wade Barrett. It's time to pay for the shit that you've done." And then, the earth-shattering _crack_ of a bullet discharging from the revolver, which, in fact, was only a muffled _tick_.

Wade's tall body lurched forward. A thin, dark stream of blood oozed from the back of his head. All too soon, however, it thickened and coursed down his neck in messy waves. The suitcase fell out of his hand and tumbled forward. Wade's body followed soon after, collapsing into a haphazard heap on the floor. The shooter reached down, took a bloody bullet from off of the floor, and tucked it into his pocket.

"Goodbye, Wade." And then, with a rueful smile, he walked away.

* * *

John embraced the taller man and curled him into his chest. For the first time in so many months, he felt as if the connection between himself and Randy had been rekindled. Sure, the AJ scandal had added a certain amount of tension into their relationship, but now, at least, Randy had allowed him to touch him. If he were to be totally honest, that was more than Randy had let him do in the last three months… He felt like a teenage boy on his first date.

He clutched the taller man a little tighter. For some reason, an uncomfortable knot had formed at the base of his stomach. What was it? Nervousness, maybe? Fear? He couldn't be sure. But he _did_ know that it made him want to hold Randy just a little bit tighter. It was also the reason that, even if it was after midnight, he couldn't make himself sleep. Call it a stupid superstition, but he couldn't close his eyes when he felt someone's eyes on _him_.

Randy moaned in his sleep and John stroked his buzzed locks affectionately. Subconsciously, he worried that his negative feelings had somehow transferred to his lover. But when the other man calmed somewhat and burrowed back down, he shook the idea off. There was no such thing as monsters, or boogey-men in the closet, or any of the other things that children worried about. But this… this was far worse that a child's nightmare.

All of a sudden, the door creaked open. An obscene, black abyss could be seen on the other end. Unconsciously, John held Randy a little closer. It was just the wind, he told himself. But it became harder to convince himself of this as the door continued to open. It moved at a calculated speed, as if a steady hand was there to guide it. And then, in the darkness, the first metallic hint of a firearm was revealed…

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" the shooter trailed off. "Little birdies, I know that you're in there. Are you ready to die?" The door slammed closed. And, in the darkness, John found himself staring into the dark, emotionless eyes of his killer…


	34. The Fight, The Break Up

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s): **Slash, Het, Mpreg, Non-Con, Abuse, etc.

* * *

Alberto had to make a few calls for them to be able to take Christabel back to the hotel, but in the end, that adoring look on Ricardo's face was well-worth the effort (and the extra thousand that he had dumped into the hotel's bank account). Less than two hours later, they were in the car with well-wishes from the doctor. She had warned them to take her back immediately if there was even the _hint_ of a relapse, but even that was a formality.

There was no way to explain it, the doctor had told them. One minute, she had a concussion and bruises over seventy percent of her body. She had internal injuries that could have (and should have) killed her slowly. But instead, the minute that Ricardo held her, she was _fine_. The injuries were still there, sure. But they had progressed into a nonlethal state and she felt safe to send her home with these two fine men. It was obvious how much they loved her.

Ricardo carefully tucked her into her car seat, careful not to hit any of her injuries. Christabel was already knocked out cold. Her little head lolled to the side and touched the side of the car seat. Ricardo smiled at her with barely contained pride. This was the moment that he had so often dreamed of, but never once, in even the wildest of dreams, did he think that he would be able to achieve. And now, he almost couldn't believe how kind Fate had been to him.

"Isn't she beautiful?" He asked offhandedly. Absently, he twisted Alberto's white scarf in his hands. The anxiety that he felt when his husband was in a match could easily be transferred to this wonderfully terrifying moment.

"She's beautiful, mi amore, because she looks exactly as you do." Alberto smiled. "And she has your resilience as well. If I were to be totally honest with myself, I must confess that I didn't think she would make it."

A shadow came over Ricardo's face, but still, he nodded. "I didn't think that she would make it either. When Sh- When She- When I was attacked, all I could think of was her. Please, don't kill her. _Please_. And then…"

"And then you had to deal with all of this. I know, mi amore, that life isn't fair. You just have to make the most of the hand that you are dealt. And I have a way to do that."

Ricardo raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"We will return to Mexico and visit my father."

The way that Ricardo tensed did not go unnoticed by Alberto. "Why? Your father _hates_ me."

"That is the exact reason that I want to visit him. And we will take Christabel as well." Alberto seemed incredibly excited about all of this. "To show him that life isn't fair, and that he can't always have his way."

"You want to rub me in his face?" He couldn't help but smile a little at that.

"I want to show him what true love _really_ means. It doesn't have a specific gender or race. It comes from the heart."

Ricardo's chocolate brown eyes widened. "Alberto! And to think, the entire WWE Universe is convinced that you are a heartless, conceited jerk!" But the classic smirk was still there.

Alberto's smile never faded. "Don't push your luck, Ricky."

Both men climbed into the front of the car and Alberto started off. Ricardo knew that Alberto had meant to travel to Mexico in a few months, when the hectic storylines that surrounded them had calmed down a little bit. He had to sort out this whole mess with Rosa Mendez and also solve the mystery that was his current losing streak. Alberto also wanted to make sure that Christabel was fit to fly that sort of distance. He didn't want her to become sick.

Alberto drove them back to the hotel and pulled into a space at the front of the lot. Even if Ricardo felt much better, he didn't want him to have to carry the three-month-old too far. At that notion, his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Christabel was already _three-months-old._ She was three-months-old and they had missed so much time with her, time that they would never be able to make up for. And that was the fault of Sheamus and Wade Barrett.

Ricardo didn't take his eyes off of her as he carried her up to their hotel room and tucked her into her crib. All the time, she remained asleep. He brushed the soft, brown curls away from her face and stared at her thick, coal lashes. She was absolutely beautiful and it never ceased to take his breath away to look upon her. He only turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Even then, it was a conscious effort to turn himself away.

"Are you okay, mi amore?" Alberto asked.

Ricardo shook his head. "No, I'm not okay. I don't think that I remember what it means to be 'okay'." He took a breath and his eyes fell closed. "That's what I _should_ feel. I know that. But I _do_ know that right now, I've never been happier."

Alberto smiled. "No, Ricardo, what you said first… that's _wrong_. _This_ is the way that you should feel. You should be able to look at her and smile, be happy, and know that neither of those bastards can _ever_ hurt you again."

Ricardo swallowed hard. Now, there was an undeniable fear in his eyes. "I don't understand how you can be so sure. Sheamus may be dead, but Wade…"

Alberto took out his phone and found the article that he desired. "Read this."

Ricardo skimmed over the article halfheartedly. Dead-down, he had a feeling that it wouldn't really benefit him to read the article. But when he reached the section that told that Wade had been murdered in the hallway of this very hotel earlier. His heart started to hammer in his chest. _That_ had been the reason as to why there were police cars outside of the hotel and why Alberto had received the new room so cheap. Wade was _dead._

Ricardo threw the phone down, not caring that it let out a screech of protest and static danced across the screen. He stumbled backward until his back hit the wall _hard_. Pictures on the wall vibrated, before they crashed down all around him like a hellacious hail storm. Ricardo didn't even notice. Instead, he curled into a ball on the floor and tears started to streak down his cheeks. Alberto, concerned for his husband, hurried over to him.

"What's the matter, Ricardo?" Alberto asked.

Ricardo looked at him dumbly, as if he had suddenly obtained a second head. "What's the matter? _What's the matter?_ Alberto, if he was _shot in this hotel_, why are we _still in_ this hotel?"

Alberto sighed. "Ricardo, you know that we can't leave this hotel. The WWE is centered here for another week and we have a discount here. If Vince finds out we moved, he'll have a fit."

"I don't fucking care about Vince McMahon!" Ricardo screamed. Alberto's eyes widened at his language.

"Ricardo!" There was no hesitancy in his voice. "Watch the way that you speak to me!"

"What are you going to do? Hit me again?" Ricardo threw back, just as furious, if not more so. Alberto's face crumbled and he stood there in shock. All of the fight went out of his body.

"Is that what you really think? Do you really think that I would hit you because I didn't get my way?"

Ricardo sighed. "No, Alberto – that's not what I -,"

Alberto stared into Ricardo's dark eyes. His own eyes were dead. "No. That's _exactly_ what you meant."

"Don't put words into my mouth, Alberto!"

Alberto flinched back from the harsh words, but other than that, he didn't let on to the fact that the words had hurt him. He walked over to the closet and took out his suitcase. It already had most of his clothes in it. The only other outfit that he had with him was currently the clothes on his back. He shot Ricardo a look out of the corner of his eye. The younger man had broken down into fits of sobs again.

Before he could cause his husband any more pain, he made his exit. The door slid closed with a harsh, final _thud_ behind him. Ricardo's sobs could still be heard on the other side of the door and it broke Alberto's heart, but he knew that this was what he had to do. Their love couldn't exist without trust and until Ricardo could learn to trust him, he needed to put distance between them. It was easier this way. Ricardo had Christabel and Alberto…

Well, Alberto had nobody. But that didn't come as a surprise.


	35. When One Door Closes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Het, Mpreg, Domestic Violence, Abuse, etc.

* * *

Alberto never intended to leave forever. He just wanted to allow Ricardo to have his time to cool off, because after all that they had been through, it seemed foolish to throw it all out the window with some meaningless words that neither of them meant. Alberto didn't want to lose Ricardo that way. And right now, it seemed that the only way to ensure that he _didn't_ lose Ricardo was to take a walk, clear his head, and let the other man stew over the situation.

He still wasn't sure how he had managed to make it halfway across town in a span of what felt like a few seconds. But there was no denying the familiarity of the bar that they had all been to after another successful PPV. Alberto was in no mood for drinking. In fact, he probably looked hammered already. His hair was disheveled and there were dark bags under his eyes. Even his normally immaculate clothes were in a state of disarray.

However, that didn't stop his feet from leading him directly into the bar. Immediately, he was bombarded with loud, cheesy music. The smell of booze and sex was thick in the air. His head throbbed. What in the world had possessed him to come in here? And that's when he saw him. Amidst the crowd of regulars, one man stood out. His dirty blond hair was slicked back and he was practically naked, save for a pair of tight leather pants. He was Chris Jericho.

Chris Jericho was back in town because his lover, Phil Brooks, had injured his knee after a particularly brutal attack from the monster, Ryback. But that didn't mean that he didn't take every chance he could to party. Often, he traded off shifts with Paul Heyman so that he could take a break and unwind a little. And while Phil didn't exactly support Chris' destructive way of life, he didn't tell him 'no' either. So the cycle continued.

Alberto walked over to him and slid onto the barstool beside him. Chris flashed him a broad smile. "Alberto! Long time no see! I didn't think that I would see the likes of you around here." He sounded drunk off of his rocker.

Alberto offered a weak smile in return. "Yeah, well, I could say the same for you." He called over the bartender and ordered himself a shot of tequila. "I would think that you would be all over your boyfriend right about now."

At the mention of Phil, Chris' face clouded over. He swiveled his barstool around and stared down at what little beer he still had left. "Yeah… about that…" He swallowed down the last of his drink. "We're taking a bit of a break."

Alberto raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Chris nodded. "He said that I was 'smothering him'. He needed some air."

"Why would he say that?"

This was turning out to be a much more personal conversation than either had anticipated. "I tend to… worry about him. A lot. He's not taking his medication and after that encounter with Ric, his knee swelled to the size of a baseball."

"And you didn't take him to the hospital?" Alberto asked in disbelief.

Chris shrugged. "He wouldn't let me and I couldn't force him. They can't treat someone who doesn't want to be treated. It's in the HIPPA laws, I think."

Alberto nodded and took his drink from the bartender. He swallowed it down in one gulp. "I know the feeling."

It was Chris' turn to raise an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yeah. Ricardo and I… well, I guess you could say that we're on a bit of a break as well."

"Really?" Alberto detected a bit of condescending disbelief in his tone, but he didn't comment on it. "I didn't know that the two of you had gotten together."

So, Alberto went over the entire story. He confessed to this drunken man, who wasn't even his friend on a _normal_ occasion; all that he had done to Ricardo and all that they had been through. It started when he had walked in on Ricardo examining his stomach in the mirror of their locker room and it ended when he had walked out on him just a half hour ago. And now that he looked back on it, it seemed like such a cowardly thing to do.

Now that he thought about it, he wondered why he had done it in the first place. How did it help him? It didn't. It just drove the stake deeper into Ricardo's heart and made him distrust the world that much more. He already felt so hopeless, so helpless, so _lost_. It wasn't fair to Ricardo for Alberto to treat him this way. His heart clenched as he confessed this all to Chris and, much to his horror, he found himself crying.

To his benefit, Chris remained silent for the entire time. He listened as Alberto broke down and, when he emptied his third shot of tequila, ordered him something a little weaker. As it turned out, Chris wasn't as drunk as he seemed. He had heard a lot of this story from Phil, but Phil had only experienced it second-hand. It was so much different to hear it straight from the horse's mouth. And it alarmed him more than a little bit.

"It seems like you just needed to talk to someone about the situation to be able to see the light." Chris said. "Do you think that you're ready to head back to him?"

Alberto swallowed hard. "I don't know. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll mess it up more than I already have."

Chris nodded. "It's an understandable fear. From the sounds of it, you've already screwed yourself over majorly."

Alberto smiled bitterly. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome."

An eye roll. "I was being sarcastic."

This time, Chris flashed a cocky smirk. "I know. So was I."

Alberto turned to stare into his now-empty glass once more. Even if he wasn't particularly fond of the older man, he found that he handed out the best advice in times such as these. It seemed that, whatever issue Alberto had, Chris had already experienced it and had the knowledge to pass on. It was almost admirable. Almost. If Alberto del Rio admitted to the fact that he almost _liked_ the blond's company, he was certain that he would never hear the end of it.

"You'll never know if you don't try, Bertie." Chris clapped him on the back, before he broke down into manic peals of laughter. After a moment, he calmed. "Seriously, though. Ricardo loves you. You know that."

Alberto half-contemplated ordering himself another drink. "After tonight, I'm not so sure."

Chris sighed. This time, when he summoned the bartender, he ordered seltzer water for both of them. "Listen, Bertie. It takes a lot more than some stupid remarks and walking out on a man to change the fact that they love you."

Alberto shot him a look. "Maybe you should take your own advice."

"What? With Phil?" Chris blinked a few times, almost as if he had never thought of that. "It would never work."

Alberto's look turned skeptical. "And why not? What makes Phil so different from Ricardo?"

Chris was silent for several moments as he tried to think of a valid excuse. Upon finding none, he shook his head and sighed. "Fine. If I try to work it out with Phil, will you promise to do the same with Ricardo?"

The drinks came. Alberto took his and swished it in his glad a few times. After a moment, he turned back to his drinking partner. Suddenly, with the brilliant, flashing lights and the hard rock music in the background, Chris seemed much older than his forty-one years. It made a secret respect that Alberto had harbored for many months blossom in full. He touched their glasses together with a soft, musical _clink_.

"I'll drink to that."

* * *

John shook Randy fiercely; afraid to make too much noise for fear that he would alert the killer to their location in the darkness. "Randy? Randy?"

Randy groaned and shifted. "Hmm? What is it, John?" But his voice was a little too loud. All of a sudden, the bullet tore through the darkness and hit the headboard just about their head. "What the fuck?"

Randy was now wide awake now. John put a hand over his mouth. "Shh. You have to be quiet!"

Randy bit down on John's hand and blood gushed over his fingers. "Let go of me! Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"There is a man… with a gun… in our hotel room. Now _shut up_!" John hissed fiercely.

The commotion from the bed brought on another haze of bullets. This time, they came closer to Randy's head. This was most likely due to the fact that Randy had been louder in his little outbursts of rage and confusion. John barely had time to yank Randy's head away from the headboard before a bullet cracked it in half and plunged into the drywall. Seconds later, a gooey red substance started to leak from Randy's tattooed shoulder.

John cursed under his breath, not loud enough for the gunman to hear. Randy let out a low moan of discomfort, but it was muffled by John's t-shirt. Blood started to seep into the blankets and John moved as much as he dared to put pressure on the wound and keep it from becoming infected. Another shot broke out. John felt Randy's body lurch and, terrified, his hands searched the man's bare back until he found the ovular bullet lodged in his shoulder blade.

John didn't dare move his boyfriend too much, so he rested him on his stomach a little ways away from him and concealed him with the dark blankets. That way, in the blackness, it would be harder to make him out. And then, gathering all of the courage he could muster, he slid out of bed and tried to approach the gunman. It wasn't hard to find him, considering the way that the moonlight glistened off of the silver of his rifle.

"Who are you?" He asked, hoping that the sound of his voice didn't give away his location. A bullet tore past his ear, but didn't touch him. "What do you want with us?"

"What do I want? _What do I want?_ You make it sound so _simple_, John. You make it sound like the two of you aren't responsible for the fact that Sheamus is _dead_!" John knew that voice. Even in the darkness, he knew it was Evan.

"You don't have to do this, Evan." He swallowed hard. "I can… I can look past the fact that you shot Randy." Really, he couldn't. He knew that, if given the chance, he would tear the bastard apart for what he had done.

"You can, but you won't. Because that's not in the story, Johnny boy." The rifle swung in the air. A bullet nicked his shoulder, but only so hard as to leave a small scratch across the surface of his skin.

"Oh, yeah? Well then, tell me, how is this story supposed to end?" John asked warily.

"It's simple, really. One of us will have to die."

His voice had lost all traces of sanity and John knew for a fact that the true Evan had been lost. Now, he was just on a spree for revenge, killing all those who he felt were responsible for the death of his lover. But John wasn't ready to die today. He remembered that it had rained earlier and there was a large, black umbrella by the side of the bed. If only he could reach it…

Another shot fired. This one imbedded in his knee cap. Flares of pain shot down his spine and he knew that this was his one and only chance. Crawling across the floor, leaving a bloody streak behind, he gripped the handle of the umbrella and stumbled to balance on his good leg. Evan charged at him, but before he was able to deal the lethal blow, John crushed the back of his skull with the blunt metal handle.

He watched as Evan fell to the floor, lifeless. "The story's over, Evan. The end." And then, the energy that he had once possessed failing him, he collapsed in a heap on the floor.


	36. Anywhere Is Better Than Here

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, Murder, etc.

* * *

It was rather fortunate for John and Randy that one of the other wrestlers, who had suffered from a touch of insomnia because of a brutal match that they had lost at the house show earlier that day, had heard the shots and had come to their room to investigate. When he found the door open, he allowed himself inside. But once he saw the mess, he almost wished that he hadn't been so curious. Evan Bourne was already dead. Randy was not far behind.

He chanced turning on the lights, but that only made it worse. His stomach turned when he saw the instrument that had caused Evan's demise. The bloody umbrella sat a few feet away from his body. The crown of his head had been cracked and blood had splattered a good foot around where his body had actually fallen. His once bright blue eyes now stared blankly ahead, seeing everything and nothing at the same time. He was smiling.

Randy lay on the bed. He had been shot three times, it looked like. One had only clipped his shoulder. The second bullet had fully impaled his shoulder blade and made a bloody mess of it. He would be lucky if he ever regained full use of it. And the final shot had come at the base of his spine. He hoped that it hadn't severed his spinal cord. He could tell Randy was still alive because the occasional, stuttering breath caused blood to ooze from his spinal injury.

And then there was John. John had been shot in the knee. He could still see the bullet where it had impaled the bone. He lay on the floor, breathing heavily. The room was rank and it was obvious that someone had been sick, because Evan's body was not so far decomposed as to smell so awfully. There was blood all over him and he had to wonder if John was even conscious. He was too far away to see if he was breathing or not.

Quickly, he took out his phone, not wanting to waste another minute. He dialed 911. "Hello. My name is Justin Gabriel." He offered up the name of the hotel. "There is one man dead and two have been seriously wounded." A pause. "Yes, both were shot." Pause. "One was hit in the head with the handle of an umbrella."

There was more debate from the dispatcher. "Both victims that were shot are still alive." Another pause. "Okay, I can stay with them until then."

* * *

Chris' idea had sounded absolutely brilliant. That was, of course, until he found himself outside the door to their hotel room (or should he call it _Ricardo's_ hotel room) and could hear the sound of Ricardo's sobs on the other side of the door. It almost destroyed him to think that the smaller man had been in front of the door for hours, unable to collect himself and move on from the fact that Alberto had walked out. What if he hadn't come back?

And then, for one dreadful moment, he allowed his mind to dwell on that idea. What if he _hadn't_ come back? What if he hadn't taken Chris' advice and had just walked away from it all? A horrific vision of Ricardo, unable to cope with this entire situation and deciding that ending it all was his only solution, filled his brain. Without further hesitation, he unlocked the door and stormed inside. Momentarily startled, the tears on his cheeks froze.

"A-Alberto? What a-are you…" Ricardo trailed off as he tried to control his emotional stutter. He scrubbed at his swollen, red-rimmed eyes with the back of his hand. "Why did you come back?"

Alberto swallowed hard as Ricardo's eyes filled with distrust and hate. He knew that he deserved all of it. "I came back because I love you, mi hermosa. All of _this_…" he motioned around the room, "was foolish. _I_ was foolish."

"You were more than foolish. You were an idiot." The words summoned a little smile, but it soon died away.

"Call me whatever names you want. I deserve all of them, because all of them are true." Alberto said.

"What's gotten into you?" Ricardo stared at him skeptically. "Are you drunk?"

"Drunk on my love for you, mi hermosa."

Ricardo rolled his eyes. "Be serious, Alberto."

"I _am_ being serious, Ricardo. I realize what an ass I've been and I want to make it up to you."

For a minute, Ricardo looked as if he didn't want to believe him. But finally, with a shuddering sigh, he nodded meekly and allowed a few more tears to leak from the corners of his eyes. "How?"

"Well, first off, I'm going to get you and Christabel out of his hell-hole. The two of you deserve to be safe and sound and I wouldn't risk that for the world. You know that, don't you?" Ricardo nodded. "And then, we're going to see my father. I've made arrangements with Vince and he's allowed us two weeks off.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. I know that I said that I wanted to wait until the baby is a little older, and truth be told, that would be the ideal. But given the current circumstances, it's not safe to do that. On the flight home, I plan to call my father and deliver an ultimatum. If he can't accept us, fine. Then he is free to disown me.

"If that happens, then we'll stay with my uncle. Unlike my father, my uncle is a little more laid-back when it comes to tradition. If I assure him of how much you mean to me and let him know that there is a child involved, he'll let us stay with him until this entire mess has blown over and we can come home. What do you say?"

After a moment of sniffling, Ricardo threw himself into Alberto's arms and started to sob into his chest. Finally, all of the emotions that he felt over the last few months could be released. "I say… thank you. I love you, Alberto."

Alberto smiled, tenderly brushing the hair away from Ricardo's face. "I love you too, mi hermosa. I love you too."

Once Ricardo had calmed, Alberto broke the embrace and handed the keys to the car over to his announcer. Ricardo looked at them fearfully for a moment, remembering when the tow truck had totaled one of Alberto's favorite cars. But Alberto insisted and Ricardo had no choice but to accept. Besides, he had an unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was a look that Ricardo had never been graced with before. He… He liked it.

This man… he had come so far from the days when he used to throw Ricardo around as if he were some kind of rag doll. It was unfortunate that it took something as drastic as rape to make such a change occur, but sometimes it takes drastic measures to see someone's disposition change. And Ricardo had to admit, this change was for the better. If Alberto hadn't changed… Well, Ricardo would still be in Mexico with his mother, father, and sister.

He rushed off to do as he had been told and Alberto walked over to the crib where Christabel lay, sound asleep. Carefully, he reached down and stroked the dark tendrils away from her sweet little face. And then, removing her from the crib, he set her in her car seat and balanced the handle over his right arm. In the other, he collected all of her carry-on items. The rest would be taken down to the car by one of the bellhops.

When he arrived down at the car, he carefully buckled her in. "You don't know how much this means to me, Alberto. I just wanted to say thank you again." Ricardo leaned forward and kissed his husband softly.

"You don't have to thank me, mi hermosa. Just seeing you smile for the first time in so long… _that_ is enough of a thank you. I want this little trip to be a chance for rejuvenation. I want you to be able to finally heal."

Ricardo smiled. It was the first honest smile he had seen on the boy's face in a long time. "I'd like that."

After the bellhop loaded all of their items into the car, Alberto slid into the driver's seat and Ricardo, after checking on their baby one last time, climbed in beside him. He turned the classical music on low, not wanting to disturb the baby. Once everyone was settled, Alberto pulled out of the parking lot and started to make his way toward the airport. They weren't sure what awaited them at Alberto's father's house, but they did know one thing for certain. Right now, anywhere was better than here.


	37. Randy's Condition

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, Murder, etc.

* * *

"You there, Cena?" These were the first three words to break into the haze of John's delirium. Pained eyes slowly fluttered and worked to focus in on his boss, Vince McMahon.

"Yeah. I'm here." John cursed under his breath as he shifted uncomfortably. His knee was incredibly stiff and it took him a minute to realize that it was concealed in a heavy white cast. "What happened?"

Vince chuckled dryly. "What happened? Evan Bourne went off the deep end, that's what happened. He broke into your hotel room and put three bullets into Randy and then shot you in the knee. He's dead now."

John was hesitant to ask, but he knew that he had to. "Did he… kill himself?" His voice was low and shaky. He didn't want to think that such a sweet boy could do that, but at the same time, he didn't think he could shoot them either.

"No, he didn't kill himself. At least, I don't think that he did. The back of his skull had been crushed by a blunt instrument. Most likely, it was the bloody base of the umbrella found nearby."

He felt a pang of remorse as he remembered putting the base of the umbrella through the poor boy's head. "Have you heard about Randy's condition?" He asked.

Vince met his eyes. When he saw the worry there, he motioned for John to relax. "I haven't heard much. Doctor-Patient confidentiality laws and all that. But, I _do_ feel the need to tell you this…"

John's eyes widened. "What is it? Does he have a fatal wound? Does he need an operation? A transfusion? A transplant? Whatever he needs, I'll -," but Vince raised one hand and cut the Cenation leader off.

"It's not like that, John. This isn't a bad thing. The doctor wanted me to inform you that Randy is three months pregnant. The bullet in his spine missed the baby by mere centimeters. You were incredibly lucky."

John's eyes widened considerably at the mention of the 'b'-word. Sure, he and Randy had occasionally entertained the idea of children. However, it had never been a topic which John had approached seriously. After all, both he and Randy were all-but-married to their careers. John was knee-deep in a feud with WWE Champion CM Punk and Randy was recovering from a nasty beat-down at the hands of The Shield.

It seemed more than a little foolish to force an innocent child into this mess. Randy would be on maternity leave back at their home in Florida while John traveled. John would offer to stay home with him, but Randy would refuse. Like the stubborn mule that he often epitomized, he would suffer in silence so that John could be happy. Randy was always incredibly conscious of what John wanted out of life and, more specifically, out of their relationship.

A child? A _child_. How the hell could this have happened? He almost asked the question aloud, but when he realized how stupid it sounded, he hurriedly brushed that idea aside. The last thing he needed was to have 'the talk' with his boss. He was fully aware of how babies were born and conceived, and after witnessing Ricardo carry Christabel for seven months and ultimately have her cut out of his body in a c-section, he realized that anything was possible.

But it also stirred up several questions as well. Randy hadn't exhibited any of the normal signs of a pregnancy, like morning sickness or odd cravings. If he was three months along, surely John would have noticed by now? Or, the fact that he hadn't put on any weight. But that could have been a combination of stress, extreme work-outs, and his pack-a-day habit. It was just so much to take in, and in his medication-hazed state, it was all very difficult.

"Have you been in to see Randy?" John asked after several moments of silence. Vince nodded absently. His fingers worked furiously over the silver keys of his laptop. "What did he look like?"

"Well, Johnny, that depends." Vince finished his e-mail and closed the lid to his computer, setting it aside for a moment. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his hands behind his head. "You want the truth, or the sugar coat?"

John shifted uneasily. It was never a good answer when someone had to preface it with that sort of statement. "I want the honest truth, Vince. I can take it."

"Randy looks like shit. I know that I told you that the baby survived the rain of bullets, but I can't honestly say that I understand how. He looks like a human cork-board, John."

Blue eyes watered as he realized that, had he been a little faster, a little stronger, he could have defended his boyfriend better. "That good, huh?"

Vince noticed the tears before John did. "Don't let it get you down, kid. Randy's a trouper. He won't let some silly little mess like this get the best of him. The doctor's say he'll regain consciousness soon, and -,"

"He's not even conscious?" John screamed. His heart monitor started to beep erratically.

"He lost a lot of blood, John. He's lucky he's not _dead_."

A cold wave of dread washed over the Cenation hero. Even as the heater kicked on in the distance, he felt his body slowly succumb to the icy cold of self-hatred. It was _his_ fault that Randy was like this. He shouldn't have woken him. It had been such a stupid decision and not only had he endangered Randy's life, but he had put the unborn child's life on the line as well. How could he live with himself if one of them died?

He was sure that Vince noticed his mental rant, but if he did, he didn't mention it. Maybe it was because Vince blamed him as well. _Everyone_ blamed him for this mess. Anger bubbled in him as he stared down at the cast on his knee. Why couldn't _he_ have been the one to be shot three times? Why couldn't _his_ body have been torn to shreds by the bullets? Because surely, that pain would have been pleasant compared to the way his heart ached right now.

"I can see that you need some time to digest this information." Vince said as he started to tuck his stuff away. "You two have as much time off as you need to heal. Don't rush it. That'll only make it worse."

Vince was almost out the door by the time John called out to him. "Vince?"

"What is it, John?" Vince turned around to face him, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Could you send in the nurse with my pain medication? It's almost time for it and I feel like I'm about to die." He said weakly. And every word that he uttered was true. But morphine wouldn't fix the pain he felt in his heart.

"Can do, kiddo." The door slid closed with a soft _click_ behind him.

The nurse arrived a few minutes later, his morphine in a tiny condiment cup in her left hand and, in her right, a Dixie cup filled with cold water and ice chips. He thanked her with a weak, but still effective smile. Swallowing the pills dry, he took a few gulps of water and then threw both into the nearby trashcan. The nurse scribbled a few notes into his chart, shot him a brief smile, and then went off to find her next patient.

* * *

Two hours later, they were on their flight. Since there had been no flights directly to Mexico at such short notice, Alberto had booked them two different flights. The first left from New York City and would travel to New Orleans. From there, they would take their connection to Mexico. Alberto had called his father earlier and he anxiously awaited their arrival. Like Alberto had predicted, he had been skeptical at first. But he had started to come around.

Ricardo nervously toyed with Christabel's silken brown locks. Even with Alberto's constant reassurances about his father, he was still incredibly uncomfortable with this entire ordeal. Alberto attempted to reassure him that his father had changed. Just like Alberto had been through a transformation, his father had been through one as well. He had seen the light in Christabel's eyes and he wanted to see her. And of course, he would love her mother also.

But Ricardo was not so sure. Ricardo had been Alberto's first 'rebellion' from his father, so to speak. Alberto's father was well-aware of the fact that Ricardo was homosexual, even before Alberto himself knew. His father liked to call it 'fatherly intuition'. He had lectured Alberto about not associating with _his kind_, but Alberto had been adamant. And when he called Ricardo his _friend_, his father had disowned him for the first time. It lasted two and a half hours.

Alberto was an only child. And, as a child, he had been a prodigy. Gifted at almost everything he attempted, he was the light of his mother and father's eyes. It was in his teen years, however (this, of course, had been when he first met Ricardo) that he started a silent 'rebellion' against them. Since he was their only child and they claimed to love him unconditionally, they would never disown him for long. But it killed Alberto every time that they did so.

Alberto assured Ricardo that his father would be able to connect with Christabel because they had always wanted a son and a daughter, but God had gifted them with a son and, try as they may, that was the only child that they were meant to have. Even if she were his granddaughter, she would still be the daughter that he had always desired. That was something that clicked for Ricardo. Maybe there _was_ hope for this visit…

However, as they drew closer to their connection site, he only drew more uncomfortable in his own skin. Not only was Alberto's father incredibly homophobic, but he was also abusive. Not to his wife or child, of course not. He was abusive to the staff that served him and his family, which included Ricardo. On one memorable occasion, he had been spanked in front of Alberto for not folding the napkins on the dinner table correctly. It had been awful.

Wrapping his arms around his two loves, he promised Ricardo that that was all in the past. He may have been abusive then, but he was different now. Time doesn't stand still just because the players on the board don't know what move to make. His father had suffered, just as Ricardo and Alberto had suffered. Maybe the context was different, but the end result was much the same. He was a different man. He was a _better_ man.

Ricardo looked down into Christabel's sweet face. The three-month-old suckled on her binky, her tiny fists balling Ricardo's expensive suit into equally expensive wrinkles. Mentally, he calculated how much it would cost him to have those smoothed out at the tailors. Almost two month's salary, to be honest. But then he remembered that they were married now, Alberto's money was his money. And a thick hand slithered across his chest to smooth out the wrinkles.

Their eyes met. Alberto's were hopeful. In them, Ricardo could see how much he truly wanted all of this to work. He wanted everyone to walk away from this experience satisfied, no matter how difficult that seemed. He sighed. When had he ever been able to deny Alberto anything? It wasn't in his nature. No, it was Ricardo who would submit to Alberto's desires and follow him to Hell and back, if Hell was where he desired to go.

And it was in that moment that he realized he would do so without complaint, because _that_ was how much he loved his man…


	38. Meeting the Parents

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, Murder, etc.

* * *

"I want you to wait in the car, mi hermosa." Hours had passed and now Alberto leaned over to his husband, preparing him to meet his new father-in-law. "Wait for me to tell you that it is safe for you to come out, si?"

"Yes." Ricardo turned to look over the little baby in the car seat beside him. "I will wait for you to tell me to come out." And then, he sniffled softly. "What if he doesn't like me, Alberto?"

"Mi hermosa, how could he _not_ like you? You are perfection! And you have given him his grandbaby! What more could he ask for? Nothing. Cut him some slack and do not think him so selfish, okay?" Alberto asked.

Ricardo dried the tears that had started to bud in his eyes. "If that is what you say, then I have little choice then to believe you. I have faith that you would not lead me astray, mi amor."

Alberto smiled at the term of endearment. "Do not worry." He uttered those same three words one last time, before he kissed Ricardo's full lips once and slid out of the car to greet his father.

Carefully, Ricardo peeled Christabel's tiny body out of the car seat and held her close to his chest. All the while, his eyes followed his husband as he made his way across the front yard and embraced the man that was waiting on the front porch of the expensive estate. Dos Caras embraced his son warmly and it soon became apparent that the little tiff that they had had about Ricardo earlier had smoothed over. They were right as rain.

Alberto kissed his father on each cheek, before he allowed his father to look him over. Once he saw that he was in good health, he would, of course, ask what woman had kept his son so well fed. It was as if Ricardo could read lips, because at that exact moment, Alberto inclined his head toward the car. He would, no doubt, have to explain that this woman was not actually a woman, but a man. And that man had now had their last name and his heir.

When Alberto turned fully toward the car and waved a hand in that direction, Ricardo knew that this was the time to act. With Christabel all but plastered to his chest, he carefully slid out of the car and shut the door with his hip. Alberto's mother gasped, putting a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her shock and apparent disdain. But Dos Caras put a hand on her shoulder to calm her. He had promised his son that Ricardo would have one chance.

Ricardo stared into the eyes of his father and law, before he bowed his head to look down at the baby in his arms. "What is your name, son?" The older man asked.

"Ricardo Rodriguez… well, actually, I mean Ricardo del Rio, sir." He wasn't used to introducing himself as a married man. His heart swelled at the very idea of it.

"He doesn't even know his own name." Alberto's mother chuckled behind her dainty hand.

Ricardo's heart sank. "Maybe this was a mistake…"

He started to turn around and head back to the car. "No, Ricardo!" Alberto's hand hooked around his shoulder and he froze. "We've come too far to back down now. Mother!" He exclaimed harshly.

His mother swallowed hard and looked as if she had been struck across the face. "How _dare_ you speak to me in such a manner, Alberto! We raised you better than that!"

"You also taught me to respect those that I love. You love me, I love Ricardo. What you have just done has hurt Ricardo, and therefore, it has disrespected me." Alberto hissed.

"Dear heart," she turned to her husband. "Talk some sense into your son. This is foolish business."

Dos Caras turned to her, his face pained. "You cannot pretend like his words don't mean something."

"I will not have such _filth_ in my household!" She screamed, waving her hand at Ricardo wildly.

Ricardo looked like he was about to be sick. Alberto held him lovingly. "If you won't have him, you won't have me."

"Don't be foolish, Alberto." His mother attempted to placate him with a soft, gentle smile. "You know that you are always welcome at our table. You're our son."

Alberto narrowed his eyes at her. "I would much rather be struck down by a truck then listen to you belittle my family at the _family_ dinner table! They have your blood in them too! We're all related! We're _all_ family!"

Dos looked around, noticing that their screaming match had started to attract the eyes of the neighbors. It was best to keep this out of the tabloids. "Come inside and sit down. I'll warm us something to drink."

Alberto's mother seemed less-than-thrilled with her husband's idea. As soon as the two men went inside, she yanked him aside and spoke to him in harsh, low tones. This was _her_ house. This was where she had raised her two boys to become brilliant men who would one day do brilliant things. They would save countless lives, solve the endless mysteries of time, or even wrestle for thousands of fans like their father. _This_ was not in that plan.

But it was _also_ obvious that Dos Caras was a man of his word. When he had been on the phone with Alberto, he had heard how desperate he was. When Alberto had recounted how the man known as Sheamus and the brawler known as Wade Barrett had assaulted Ricardo and left him to die, he could hear the pain in his boy's voice. If he could have, he would have taken care of those monsters for his eldest son. But instead, he had to face them on his own.

Despite how hard she had tried to raise them into the perfect men, Alberto just wasn't as close to his mother as he was to his father. He felt that he could tell his father all of these things, while his mother infuriated him to the point where he just didn't care whether she liked him or not. They would come and live with them for two weeks time and she could learn to live with it, no matter how far she had sunk into her ways.

Hurt by her husband's unbending position on this matter, she rushed inside and ran upstairs. If she couldn't get rid of the situation, then she could separate herself from it. "I'm sorry about her. She's just a little emotional."

"Maybe it would have been better if we hadn't come at all…" Ricardo trailed off warily.

Alberto stroked his back comfortingly. Dos shook his head. "She would have found out some way, somehow. It isn't that she doesn't like you, it is that she is rather close minded when it comes to marital etiquette."

"As in, she thinks that the marriage between us should be null and void because we are two men?" Ricardo asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. How could a mother deny her own son such a basic human right?

"Yes. And while I cannot say that I'm thrilled with your union, I can assure you my views aren't that extreme."

Ricardo bit his bottom lip. "What are your views, then, if I may ask?"

Dos Caras nodded. "You shouldn't be afraid to ask me anything, son." Ricardo's heart warmed at the sentiment. "It is not a traditional union and your firstborn is not a son… but we can work around that, I suppose."

Alberto smiled. "Thank you, father."

"I refuse to lose my son because of my stupidity. And I do not want to chance not being able to see my grandchild."

Ricardo looked up hesitantly. Christabel had just started to awaken and she cooed softly. "Her name is Christabel."

"A truly beautiful name." Dos Caras assured them. "May I hold her?"

Ricardo was silent for a moment, before he nodded. "Yes."

Carefully, he handed the baby over to his father-in-law. The baby let out a little cry, but Ricardo shushed her softly. Her brown eyes flickered between Ricardo and Dos Caras, before she smiled brightly and let out a cheerful shout. Dos looked started at first. For all Ricardo knew, this was his first interaction with a baby in close to twenty years. But Ricardo could also see the almost instantaneous bond that had formed between grandfather and granddaughter.

He stared at her in absolute amazement. Alberto touched a hand to his husband's shoulder and Ricardo leaned over, laying his head on the older man's shoulder. It was clear that this was what they had wanted. If Dos Caras fell in love with Christabel, then Alberto was certain that the love for Ricardo would follow soon after. And as he watched his father stroke her soft brown hair away from her little face, he smiled.

"She's beautiful…" he trailed off in awe. And they knew that they had him hook, line, and sinker.

* * *

Randy awoke to find himself alone. He lay on his stomach, with wires criss-crossing all over his back. He couldn't see his wounds, which he was thankful for. From the splitting pain in his shoulder, he knew that he had been shot there at least once. But there was also a fire in his lower back. No matter how he turned, he couldn't alleviate it at all. And he didn't want to move too much, because that would set his heart monitor off and he would be bombarded by nurses.

It took a minute for it to truly sink in that he was alone. John wasn't there with him. Fear twisted his stomach into knots as he wondered about what could have happened to his boyfriend. He didn't hear much about his condition. He knew that he had been shot because he had heard it before he blacked out, but there hadn't been a damn thing that he could have done about it. He was blinded by the pain in his upper torso and could barely move.

Blindly, he reached out and took hold of his morphine pump. Relief flooded him and he almost fell back into the blissful oblivion that was his dreamland. But he couldn't do that. He needed to find out about John, make sure that he was okay. So he leaned over and hit the call button, summoning the nurse. She came in a few minutes later, a warm smile on her face when she noted that he was awake.

"What can I do for you, sir?" She asked kindly.

"I need to… I need to know about the condition of my boyfriend. He was shot and I don't… I don't know where he is." Randy swallowed hard. "His name is John… John Cena."

"Oh, Mr. Cena?" She seemed pleasantly surprised. "Mr. Cena is very well. He was shot in the knee, but we were able to remove the bullet and he is healing well. He's been asking about you."

Randy's eyes widened. His surprise was only slightly clouded by the pain that still lingered in his handsome blue eyes. "He has? What did you… What did you tell him?"

"We told him that all of the bullets had been removed from your body, but it was still touch-and-go because you hadn't regained consciousness. I can arrange for him to be brought down here if you want to see him for yourself."

"You would do that for me?" Randy asked, his eyes starting to get blurry with sleep.

"Yeah." The nurse nodded. "Why don't you sleep now, because I can tell that you're tired, and when you awake, he'll be here. How does that sound?"

Randy nodded. A small smile lit up his features, before he allowed his eyes to fall closed. "It sounds great."


	39. Blessing

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, Murder, etc.

* * *

Randy awoke to a calloused hand tenderly stroking the gauze bandages that covered the wounds on his shoulder. True to her word, the nurse had brought John in to sit with him. Judging by the fact that he was dressed and a go-bag was slung over the handles of the wheelchair, Randy assumed that he had been cleared to leave. But there was a dark, haunted look in his eyes. It was clear that he was still troubled by the horrific encounter with Evan.

Weakly, Randy stretched one arm out and touched his boyfriend's shoulder. He could feel the stitches in his shoulder pull, but thankfully, they didn't tear. John turned his head mechanically and allowed his dark, pained eyes to scan the situation. Randy could see the wheels slowly turn inside of the older man's head. Finally, he allowed his arm to fall. It was just too painful to maintain the earlier position. John watched this as well, the expression frozen on his face.

"Y-You're hurt." John stated the obvious. He swallowed hard and tears brimmed in his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Ran. Are you in a lot of pain?" His voice trembled with emotion. He felt like he was about to be sick.

Randy swallowed down the hurt and shook his head. "Nah, it doesn't hurt too badly." It was such a clean lie; he could almost convince himself it was the truth. "The morphine pump helps too."

John knotted and unknotted his hands. "Did you know that he was pregnant? Evan, I mean." A fear tears fell down his cheeks. They weren't welcome in the least. "He was pregnant and I killed him. Him and the baby."

"It wasn't your fault, John. It wasn't your fault that Evan went around the bend." Randy assured him. "And I'm sorry if you think that it is… but you saved me _and_ our baby. I'm sorry about Evan and the baby, but…"

"But _what_, Ran? Nothing I can do will take back what I've already done. Nothing can be said to undo the truth. And what _is_ the truth? _I_ did this when I allowed you to attack Sheamus and I… I couldn't hold myself back…"

"Sheamus would have hurt me, John. He _did_ hurt Ricardo. There isn't a person out there who wouldn't see that as self-defense." Randy insisted, but it was clear that John didn't believe it.

John looked down at the floor. "That doesn't matter. None of that matters. It doesn't change a damn thing." John slammed his fist down onto his bad knee and a blossom of red stained the white fiber cast.

Randy narrowed his eyes at his love. "Don't hurt yourself, John. Don't make this worse." He chastised him softly, but there was no real venom behind his words. "I need you to be here with me."

John met his eyes for a moment, before he was forced to tear his eyes away. "I don't deserve you. I don't… I don't deserve _anything_. I should be that one that died. I should…" he trailed off, disgusted with himself.

Randy hissed in the back of his throat, sounding not unlike his in-ring counterpart. "I don't want to _ever_ hear you say that again, do you understand me?"

John fell silent. Randy's stomach lurched as he watched the storm of emotions dance in John's eyes. He could clearly see how much John wanted to end it. It killed him that he was still here when he had taken the life of an innocent, unborn child. But he wouldn't do it. John was a man of his word, and if Randy told him that he wanted, no, that he _needed_ him to stay here, be there to raise this child, then he would never think about this again.

John stared down at the awkwardly colored tile floor. The velvet ring box in his pocket felt as if it weighed a ton now. His stomach rolled at the idea of getting down on one knee and asking for Randy to marry him. For one, he wasn't even sure he could get down on one knee anymore. And then, there was the fact that he didn't feel worthy of Randy's acceptance. Randy deserved so much better than he could offer…

He swallowed hard and turned the box over in his hand. What would Randy say, if he asked him? Would he say yes? That used to be John's dream. He had been more than excited when he had gone to buy the ring four months earlier. It had been before the mess with AJ, before the attack on Sheamus… before Ricardo was attacked. Then, he had been optimistic. Now, he was just afraid. His hand started to shake with worry.

Randy stared at him for a moment, confused. Finally, he was able to put words to his confusion. "What's the matter, John?" His dark eyes flickered to the older man's pocket. "What do you have in there?"

John cleared his throat lamely and tried to rub the skin off of the back of his neck. "Oh, this old thing? It's just something that I bought a few months ago. I asked Vince to bring it for me. It's… It's for you." He confessed softly.

Randy's eyes softened. "What is it, John?"

John looked worried now. "Do you really want to know?"

"Would I have asked if I didn't?" This, of course, was followed by the customary eye roll.

John swallowed hard once more. "No," he laughed weakly. "I guess you wouldn't have." He took the box out of his pocket and stuck it into Randy's good hand. "I already had it sized."

Randy looked a little confused at that. Carefully, he maneuvered his injured arm into a more comfortable position and carefully opened the velvet box. The ring that was inside stole his breath away. To claim it was beautiful would have been a gross understatement. A simple white gold band stood proud in the little slit, and it came around to divide into two different arcs, both of which were encrusted with small diamonds.

He stared at it in awe. There was no doubt in his mind that it had cost John a fortune. But… But it was just so beautiful. Mesmerized by the beauty of it, he ran his finger over the small, glittering jewels. That's when small letters caught his attention. He turned the ring over, amazed to find that John had even gone so far as to have it engraved. The inside of the ring read: _Forever isn't long enough. _

Unsure of what else to say, Randy confessed the first thing to come to mind. "It's beautiful, John. I didn't know that you had wanted to ask-,"

Here, John cut him off. "Yes, that's true. I _wanted_ to ask. I bought it back when we were happy. I bought it when there was no blood on my hands, before Ricardo almost lost the baby, before the attack from Sheamus and Wade…"

"Before AJ." Randy finished softly.

John stared down at his hands, as if they were still covered in Evan's blood. "Before AJ."

"I would have said yes, you know." Randy broke the uncomfortable silence, staring unwaveringly into John's eyes. "I would _still_ say yes, if you asked me." He continued. "_But you have to ask me."_

"And what if I don't?" John cried out suddenly. "You deserve so much better than me, Ran, and I -,"

"Why don't you let _me_ decide who I do and don't deserve?"

John sighed. "Fine." A stray tear leaked down his cheek. "_I_ don't deserve _you_."

"John Cena, if I hear _one more_ derogatory phrase about how 'you should have died' or 'you don't deserve me', I _swear_ that I will call in the nurse and have her sedate you so that they can administer a cat scan."

Despite himself, John chuckled. "My head is fine, Randy."

"Obviously it isn't, because you keep making remarks like this. You're really starting to scare me, John."

And John could see it clearly written in Randy's dark blue eyes. The Viper really _was_ worried about him. He supposed that it shouldn't have come as so much of a shock, but really, in his current state of mind, it wasn't too unbelievable. When a stray tear leaked out of Randy's eye, however, he was decided. He couldn't sit around and be the cause of Randy's distress. It would be like turning his back on everything that he ever stood for.

John's eyes flickered between Randy's tear-stained cheeks and the ring box in Randy's hands. "You said that you would say yes?"

"I would never dream of saying no." Randy assured him wholeheartedly.

"Okay, then." John sighed, closing his eyes and pushing all of the destructive thoughts to the back of his mind. "I would get down on one knee and all, but… you know…"

For the first time since all of this had started, Randy flashed him a _true_ smile. "That's fine. You're perfect just the way you are."

John returned the sentiment. "Randy… I know that it's been a rocky couple of months. And I never expected to have to do this in a hospital room after worrying for two days that you had died. I don't know what I would do without you, Ran. Actually, I do know. Without you, I cannot exist. We're two halves of the same whole.

"You constantly assure me that this blood on my hands doesn't define me. It doesn't make me a different person. Right now, it's hard to believe you. The wounds and the blood are still fresh. But with time, with you by my side, I _know_ that we can both help each other to heal and move beyond this. So, Randy…

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

Randy, with tears brimming in his handsome eyes, nodded hurriedly. "Yes."

It was the brutal honestly within that one word that almost caused John to break. Trembling, he leaned forward in the wheelchair and initiated an awkward hug with his future-husband. Their bodies were so awkwardly tangled that it was obvious they were uncomfortable, but that didn't matter. They had each other. And now that the obstacles had been cleared out of the way, they could look forward to a bright future. Together.

* * *

"Father?" Alberto cornered his father in his office. It had been two days since they had first arrived, and while Dos had been pleasant company, he tended to avoid the couple as much as he could without being considered rude.

"What is it, Alberto?" Dos asked. He lowered his book to the table and leaned back in his chair.

"I wish to ask something of you. A request." Alberto muttered hurriedly. He was more than a tad nervous. "It would make Ricardo extremely happy, and I believe that he deserves at least that."

"Yes, about that…" his father seemed oddly interested now. "You've never told me the exact details of this 'attack' that led to the premature birth of my granddaughter. I'd like to hear about that, before I hear this 'request'."

Alberto's face hardened. "Why do you need to know that? It isn't any of your concern."

Dos sighed. "I want to know for your mother. If she knows what he's been through, she may come around easier."

"She still hasn't come around?" Alberto asked. He should have been surprised, but he wasn't.

"No." His father shook his head. "She needs more time. But I think that this information will help to smooth the process along." And then, he shrugged. "It's the sad truth that your mother can be a little… cold, sometimes."

Alberto ran a hand over his face, thinking it over for a moment. When he had first been in to see Ricardo, he had promised him that he would never tell another soul about what had occurred. But at the same time, he was so desperate to be accepted into the family. It was a lose-lose situation. Finally, he threw himself into one of the leather armchairs, looked his father in the eye, and told him the entire story.

It started with the feud with Sheamus over the World Heavyweight Title. Alberto knew that that was when Ricardo and Sheamus had first come in contact with each other. It had spiraled out of control from there. With a shameful look on his face, he admitted to his father that he had been less than loving to Ricardo on more than one occasion. Sexual abuse had been one of his favorite pastimes. It made him sick to think back on that.

And all the while, Sheamus would pretend to be Ricardo's friend. He buttered him up and made the betrayal real smooth. He lured a heavily pregnant Ricardo into his locker room and, while Wade Barrett manned the camera, raped and tortured him. He almost killed their baby. She was in an incubator for the first three months of her life. And now that she was finally with them, they had to take her out of the country to keep her safe.

"I'm very sorry about that, son." Dos mumbled softly, unsure of what else to say. What could you say to something like that? "What was that… What was that request you wanted to ask of me?"

Alberto had almost forgotten. "I wanted to ask for your blessing. I want to marry Ricardo again, but do it right this time. He deserves a full ceremony, not some cramped judge's courters."

Dos nodded. "Then he'll have it. You have my blessing. Take care of him, Alberto."

Alberto nodded firmly, before he rose to his feet. "I will, sir." And then, he made his way down the hall of find Ricardo.


	40. Epilogue: The Wedding

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Christabel and Dexter.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, Murder, etc.

* * *

**One Year Later**

It was twelve o' clock. The ceremony was scheduled to start at twelve-thirty.

Randy stared into the mirror nervously. It had been six months since the birth of their son, Dexter, and the suit that he had custom ordered didn't fit as well as he would have liked. He didn't like the way that it settled around his stomach. Awkwardly, he shifted the material around to try and draw it away from the small belly that he still sported. John said that it was adorable, but Randy just didn't see it the same way. He wanted his old body back.

He still hadn't been medically cleared to wrestle. Even if his bullet wounds had healed, Vince insisted that he undergo physical therapy to make sure that his bones and his muscles were in the best shape possible. Absently, he rolled his shoulders. A small flare of pain shot down his back, but it was muted, and nothing compared to what it had first felt like when he was taken off the morphine pump. He fixed his suit one more time.

Finally, he tied his tie – loosened it, tightened it, loosened it, tightened it… he was just so _nervous_. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him. But, more than anything, he knew that this was what he wanted. He and John deserved to be happy. And if he let his nerves take over, not only would he never be able to fix things with John, but he didn't even want to think about what it would do to John emotionally. He would just… lose it.

There was a knock on the door. Sam peered inside, a bright smile on her face. While it may not have worked out for her and Randy, she was happy that he finally had a chance to be happy. "It's time, babe."

"Thanks." Randy smoothed his hands over his suit. "I'll be out in a minute." And, looking back at the mirror, he followed Sam out the door to the church.

* * *

"Well, baby girl, this is it. Your Daddy and I are gonna get married. Again." Ricardo smiled sweetly at the fifteen-month-old that he cradled in his arms. She looked up at him with tired, chocolate eyes.

The del Rio family tailor had made Ricardo's suit. The fabric was imported from Switzerland and it felt incredibly soft against his skin. The actual suit was white, but the inside was lined with black silk and he wore a black button-down underneath. Alberto had said that this would make the white tie stand out more. Ricardo looked at himself in the mirror, Christabel still in his arms. He had to admit – the suit fit better than any of his announcer's suits.

He turned around and set Christabel down on the little couch. Immediately, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and started to suck. It was amazing, the resemblance that she bore to Alberto. Thick, black curls fell down around her tiny face, and her eyes held the same shimmer of intelligence. She was such a sweet child, so pure and innocent, and Ricardo didn't know what he had done to deserve her. He would spend his entire life wondering about that.

"Your Grandpa and Grandma are gonna be here too. I don't know what your Grandpa did to make your Grandma come around… but I'm thankful for it. She's actually a nice woman… once you get to know her."

"G-G-Grandma?" It was hard for Christabel to get her tongue around all of the letters, but it sounded okay in the end.

"Yeah, baby. Grandma's here." Ricardo ruffled her ebony curls and smiled as she chuckled cutely.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "I do it!" Christabel announced, before she slid off of the couch and ran over to the door. But she was too tiny to reach the handle.

"Here, let me help you baby." Ricardo hoisted her up and put his hand on her smaller one, helping her to twist the knob and allow their visitor inside.

It was Alberto's mother. She was dressed in a beautiful white gown that flowed down into a small train behind her. Hurriedly, Ricardo moved aside to allow her room to come in. Even if he would soon be an official member of their family, his days as the family servant still remained with him. And the lady of the house had always been the cruelest toward him. It was no secret that she hated him above all else.

"I had to come because there was something that I needed to say to you, face to face." She said, her head bowed. "I wanted to let you know that you… my Alberto and you, Ricardo… you both have my blessing as well."

Tears brimmed in Ricardo's eyes. "Thank you, madam. You don't know… You don't know how much it means for me to hear you say that." Ricardo assured her fervently.

She only nodded, a solemn smile on her face. "Take good care of my boy." And then, "It's time. The ceremony will start soon." Carefully, she took Christabel into her arms. "I hope you find the happiness that you seek."

An image of Ricardo, standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for him, filled his mind. He smiled. "I will."

* * *

It would have been rather comical to watch Alberto and John hurriedly straighten each other's ties, had it not been for the complete nervousness that was clear in their eyes. John, still worried about the incident with Evan, had convinced himself that Randy would change his mind at the last minute and leave him at the altar. Alberto worried about what his mother had to say to Ricardo. He didn't need her to scare him off before the ceremony.

Shortly after both men had proposed, they had decided that it would be most economical to have a double ceremony. Since the entire WWE roster would be invited anyhow, it seemed wrong to have them be forced to choose which ceremony to attend. So, instead, they had booked a church a short distance away from Miami and, together, had paid for their families to stay there for the week. Thus far, it had been an amazing vacation.

John looked at the clock. It was twelve twenty-five. "Guess we can't put this off any longer, huh?" He tried to sound sarcastic, but instead, he just sounded scared.

Alberto swallowed hard and shook his head. "Guess not." He clapped a hand on his newfound friend's shoulder. "After you, John." And he followed him out into the hallway…

* * *

"Ladies and Gentleman, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join this man and this man," he motioned to John and Randy, "and this man and this man" he motioned to Ricardo and Alberto, "in holy matrimony. If anyone here feels as if these two couples should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

John clutched Randy's hands nervously, and Randy smoothed his thumb over the back of John's meaty paws to comfort him. Alberto never broke eye contact with Ricardo, silently willing his mother to stay in her seat. When nobody rose to contradict the couple's decision to marry, the pastor continued. The ceremony went by in a blur. None of the men remembered much of the pastor's speech about lifelong commitment and faithfulness.

It was only when it came time for the vows that they started to come back to themselves. Slowly, the pastor made his way over to John and Randy. On a soft, blue satin pillow, he had the two rings. They were two solid, white gold bands (not unlike Randy's engagement ring), with the engraving:_ forever and always_ on the inside. John took his first, taking hold of Randy's hand and smiling a little when Randy looked down bashfully.

"You don't know how much it means to me that we've made it this far. I used to think that I'd never see the light of day again, but now I know the truth. You _are_ my day. And I hope the sun won't set for a very long time." The ring was on.

Randy took his turn then. "It's funny that you mentioned light, because you're my light as well. Sometimes, it is so dark, I don't know what the light is." And then, he whispered in John's ear, "but when you're with me, all of the voices go away…"

A tear leaked down John's face at the truthfulness behind those words. Randy truly _did_ love him, and that meant more than words ever could. The pastor smiled at them, before he took the other pillow and walked over to Ricardo and Alberto. Ricardo was already crying, all of this emotion finally getting the best of him. Alberto gently rubbed the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

Alberto slid Ricardo's ring on. "This is what you deserve, mi hermosa. To forever be with people who love and care for you. I won't be the man to promise that nobody will ever hurt you again, because promises like that are asking to be broken. But I will say that I would rather _die_ than see someone hurt you. _That_ is my promise."

Ricardo sniffled. "I love you so much, Alberto."

Alberto smiled, stroking Ricardo's hair softly. "I love you too, mi hermosa."

Ricardo slid Alberto's ring on, his hand trembling. "I… I still don't know what has happened to make you change, but I know that I like you better this way. You… You honestly love me. I can see that. And you love our daughter too. And I know that I wouldn't want anyone else to be her father."

The crowd broke down into tearful awws. Alberto continued to brush the tears away from Ricardo's eyes, showering him with affection for all of the world to see. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he loved his ring announcer. And Randy rested his head on the smaller man's shoulder, John's arms hooked protectively around Randy's middle. The pastor looked on both couples with a smile.

"Then by the power invested in me, I know pronounce you husband and husband," he motioned to Randy and John, "and husband and husband." This time to Ricardo and Alberto. "You may now kiss your husband."

Before he had even finished, the kissing had already begun.

* * *

**A/N: Translation ~ Hermosa: Beautiful**


End file.
